


Melting Silver

by Anne_de_Breuil



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 47
Words: 59,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_de_Breuil/pseuds/Anne_de_Breuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin's company has arrived to Mirkwood, and things don't go as expected. They will find an unexpected ally, a hunter. A female hunter, at that. They must leave together the Elvenking’s dungeons and Mirkwood, but nothing is as simple as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark is the night

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue, so feel free to comment or to point me if there are some errors. Your help is truly appreciated!

All subjects in Mirkwood halls were restless. Everyone, from the highest courtier to the lowest scullery maid was talking about the same fact. Prince Legolas, the one and only heir of mighty Thranduil, had found a new threat in the woods. It wasn’t, as usual, a new giant spiders’ settlement, nor one of those slimy creatures that climbed to the trunks of their once green and lusty forest.

No, this time he had found none other than… thirteen dwarves! Maids and elven ladies fanned themselves with horror, thinking about what were those awful and greedy creatures searching on their realm. They surely wanted to snip their jewels and their opulent clothing or, Eru forbid it, to kill their sons and steal their daughters away.

Anyway, they will soon find out what those dwarves were searching for, as the guards were showing the prisoners the way to the Throne Hall. In that way, all the Mirkwood population was nearly cramped in this place, and they waited anxiously for their Elvenking to appear in the high throne platform.

Few attendants have really paid attention to the prisoners. Dwarves, they thought, were disgusting, and they wouldn’t give them a second thought. But one pair of eyes were watching attentively this bunch of dwarves, all weary and dressed in rags, strongly guarded by the king’s best warriors. She didn’t like what she saw. Nothing at all.

Said dwarves were dirty and blood-spattered, with a faraway look in their eyes that dangerously approached insanity. Those were sideways effects of being lost for hours in the goddamned forest.

‘They got lost’ She thought. ‘Even I am not capable of finding my way out without help, so they must have been influenced by some mirages. However, there is so much rage in their stance; makes me wonder what else do they have against elves”

Like to prove her right, they looked around as they were expecting nothing but violence and being battered to death.

‘I don’t blame them. If Thranduil is not in the mood, it may be their fates they are sealing’ she continued. ‘And he is _never_ in his best mood.’

With a loud “clang” that distracted her, one of the king’s guards placed a huge pile of weapons next to the captive group, out of their reach.

‘What?’ She marvelled ‘Ered Luin’s famous double axes? Who, by Mahal’s name, are those people?’ The shock nearly made her voice her thoughts aloud. But suddenly, the rustling sound of skirts diverted her from this line of thoughts.

Elves were kneeling around her, but she stayed straight, even without bowing her head in sign of respect. Only she and the captives were standing, making a stark contrast in the crowded halls. It wasn’t, however, relevant. The Elvenking had arrived.


	2. The Huntress

 Thranduil was not in his mood at all. He had sent his son and heir to patrol the kingdom limits for a reason. And a good one, at that, albeit unknown for most of their people. Darkness was assaulting his kingdom, and he could fell in his bones that the giant spiders, the goblins, the orcs were not but heralds of an incoming doom. That was the reason for his intentional isolation from outer word, into the large halls of his underground palace, a pale copy of the huge Menegroth royal residence.

Nevertheless, closed spaces were slowly undermining the Elvenking’s mind, as any other elves’ in his kingdom. Mirkwood was now dark and dangerous, but Thranduil could remember better days, when his lands were stunning and full of light and life, and the sun shone on his crown, his many jewels sparking around his neck.

He was not gentle and compassionate as the high Elven Lords and Lady of Lothlorien and Imladris. The knowledge of all that was lost, and his hot-headed _fëa_ , inherited from his father, made him prone to rage. Admittedly, a dwarven company in his kingdom didn’t improve his personal balance.

Moreover, those weren’t ordinary dwarves, thought the Sindar, shaking his long silver mane, some merchants or blacksmiths. Nope. Of all the children of Aüle to walk Middle Earth, he had met the greediest and most stubborn of them all, who had a well-known lack of manners. His dwarven warriors surrounded Thorin Oakenshield, who had anyhow survived his legend, shrunk and wearing dirty tatters, just a pale reflection of his proud grandfather.

His long dark locks were full of leaves and branches and he smelled faintly of smoke, as if he had just run away from a flaming fire. However, he had the majestic bearing of Durin’s sons, his hair tossed backwards and unbraided, his hands clasped at each side, and his odd deep blue eyes.

Thranduil could also detect some kind of recent wound, and the fury that stemmed from his body when the dwarf looked at him. Even when he will never admit it, truth was that he was glad that the King Under the Mountain didn’t have any weapon available…

Speaking about weapons, the Elvenking approached the pile placed near his captives, and something catch his eye.

“You didn’t strike me as a thief, Thorin, son of Thráin. This sword is elven-made Ages ago. Why a dwarf carries Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver, and my people’s legacy?” he asked.

“He told me they found it in a Troll hoard. But I didn’t believe this explanation very much, and I hope you will grant me the honour of wearing it on my ongoing patrols” answered his son Legolas, wielding the weapon.

An overview of the dwarven group told him that after addressing his leader, they seemed to follow a non-spoken rule and they have circled him, protecting him with their bodies, readied for battle. Well, they are warriors, soldiers. Easy to understand and to command, Thranduil told himself. Centuries of endless battles had taught him a trick or two, and he intended to put them to good use. He was not entitled as more dangerous than the High Elves for anything. Those dwarves were going to learn respect the hard way, he decided, so he would release some of his anger without feeling guilty about it.

While the Mirkwood prince explained the giant spiders’ nest assault, and how he had found the group of dwarves, the Elvenking let his throughts go. A little voice in his mind was telling him something was out of place since he had entered the Throne Hall. Something had attracted his attention even when he wasn’t totally aware of it, and he was struggling to catch the meaning. He looked around the place, crowded with his subjects. All gazes were downcast; they avoided the king’s glare. They know better than to attract his king’s renowned bad temper. Some of them have endured it first-hand, and it was an unpleasant experience, to say the least. Except for… here it was. He had found it.

A direct stare, full of irony and on the verge of disrespect, from a person in full standing position, near a wood pillar. He was sure this posture had not change since he had entered the room, the only creature –excepting dwarves- in his kingdom that dared to not bow in allegiance when he arrived.

However, the Mount Doom would freeze over before she would kneel down, Thranduil thought absently. Somewhat at the same moment he himself would stop trying to get more than sarcasm or affront from those magnificent hazelnut eyes that paired an equally impressive body, tall and slender. It bore some similarities with elves, but she was overall different. When elven beauty was outwordly and extemporal, hers was… imperfect. But that didn’t mean she was not stunning. Her beauty was born in the earth, she was like the fallen leaves and pinecones in the autumn woods, brown eyes like the ground you walked in, her hair messed like a bird’s nest, her body curvy like a round stone on a riverbank. So unlike a lady, but she called to him like the seagulls called elves to sail to Valinor.

The tall Sindar knew that was a dangerous line of thought. The owner of those hazelnut eyes was from a mixed race who was as proud as elves and as stubborn as men and dwarves. All together combined in a pliable… and lethal woman’s body. They were called Huntresses, her sisters and her. Apparently, all their descendants were females, no matter the race of their father. However, anyone who had crossed their path knew better than identify this fact as a weakness. They were rather dangerous, and they favoured weapons as crossbows, daggers or, Eru had mercy on his battered soul, double swords.

That was _the_ matter. Once, and only once he had the chance of sparring with her. He had seen her wielding her blades, and thought: `Double swords, what an arrogant and stupid little mortal. I will show her a thing or two about elven weapons’. Oh, and it would be the first time his agelessness wisdom failed him. Of course, they fought, and he was terribly lucky that the training field were empty at that early hour of the morning, because otherwise he would have to strangle the witnesses by himself. She did not win, Eru forbid it. Thranduil’s mastery at double sword playing was renowned, and she was no pairing. But she would stand still against him and she blocked nearly all his blows. This went for such a long time that he lost all his impeccable demeanour, and he returned to ages ago, when he was young, eager to face his first real battle.

And oh, how magnificent she was! She parried Doriath style, damn her. He wondered who on Middle Earth had taught her to fight like that. Her body tensed like a bowstring, she stirred faster than the wind, spreading around him like waves of molten silver. She moved like a big forest wildcat; there was something animalistic in her. And her eyes shone with mirth, as if all the situation was part of a secret joke.

Since then, each time he met her, the Elvenking tried to instill her respect he had lacked from her in the training field. And she would slip thought it with the same elegance she had diverted his sword blows. This exchange would indefectibly lead to an irate king and a smiling huntress who would mock a bow and turn around to leave his kingdom, only to return the following season.

As there were less and less beings than travelled or exchanged goods with Mirkwood, her products were much appreciated: soft furs, leather and medicinal herbs on occasion. Her real name was Selene, but everyone in his kingdom called her _Faron_ , the Huntress, and her merry laughter and her curly hair could be heard and seen in every Silvan assembly.

Thranduil returned to his son’s speech, and he decided to toss aside the thoughts about this woman to focus in another matter. He needed a target to humiliate and destroy. Arrogance was growing around him like a poisonous flower, and he decided to nip it in the bud.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, have honoured me with his presence on my Halls” he spoke, sarcasm oozing from his words. “To what do I own this honour? Let me guess… He came to free his kingdom from the Great Worm. Isn’t it? A great achievement… if he survives”

The Elvenking watched with satisfaction as the dwarf shifted uncomfortable, watching him uncover his plans his plans so easily. A bunch of dwarven warriors travelling across the Mirkwood to the Lonely Mountain, one doesn’t need to be very wise to know what they were intending to do.

The witty elf changed his voice to a sweet and intoxicating tone, intended to convince the most grudging dwarves.

“But it is a noble cause, and I am inclined to it. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help. I will let you go, if you but return what is mine. You have my word. One King to another.”

`Now, the cards are on the table. The shabby son of a barren rock will bow and acknowledge my mercy and I will finally get some kind of authority in this damned room’

Those were his considerations until a grave voice boomed in his said rooms:

“Oh, your help? We came to you once, starving, homeless; seeking your help. But you turned your back! You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! I would not trust Thranduil, the great King, to only his word. Till the end of all days be upon us!”

A shocked whisper spread his subjects’ ranges, and had the ability to make a certain pair of hazelnut eyes turn. Her pupils dilated in disbelief, and she silently approached the speaker. The dwarf king stood proud in front of elves, and she noticed he was taller than his peers. He had placed himself in the low marches of the throne looking to the Elvenking in the eyes. Thranduil was fuming with rage, and he screamed:

“You deserve nothing but my palace dungeons, haughty creature. You may root there, with those excuse for warriors that you called friends. A thousand years are like a blink for me. I am patient. I can wait. Can you?”

But the Elvenking didn’t have the time to say nothing more. Besides the dwarven king appeared a shape nearly as tall as him, her hands lifted to reach for the double swords’ hilts crossed in her back.

“I didn’t know kings deserved so little respect in these lands, even when they intended to talk about war or peace. Eldar’s renowned hospitality is lacking nowadays, I see”. Thranduil’s worst nightmare spoke out loudly, watching Thorin Oakenshield with a spark of recognition in her eyes.

As for the dwarven King, he was surprised but didn’t let it show in his demeanour, but it was clear he didn’t understand this new disruption.

“Unless you want to escort them _by yourself_ to their new accommodations, _and stay there and share their fate_ ” pointed the king “I strongly advise you not to abuse my patience. But as I am a compassionate king, I will  _once more_ remind you that you are in _my_ domains”

“Of course, but I must also  _remind you_ this wood existed even before you walked on this land, Thranduil. And I am bound to the power that protect this earth, much more that to one or another king, _as you surely agree, with your infinite wisdom and compassion”_ she retorted, her words full of poison.

The entire hall held a collective sigh. All Mirkwood elves were used to this dialectic struggle, and it never brought anything good.

“Let those dwarves continue their journey, they wouldn’t interfere with your authority or linger on your lands. I will like to think the great Elvenking is above dwarven greed, and would not grovel himself asking for payment in gems to cross his lands.”

“And you are overly interested in them. May I ask why? They will be confined in the dungeons, and this is my last word. Get out of my sight!” Thranduil said with finality.

She knew better than to answer, so she turned around and left without a bow or any mark of acknowledgement. She headed to a side door, mumbling some words that an astonished Thorin identified as Khuzdul, and if he had heard it right, she was describing Thranduil as an air-filled orc’s bladder.

She was a wicked one, the dwarf thought. He liked that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am searching for a beta-reader, as I am not a native English speaker. So if you are interested, please contact me. And feel free to point me my faults. Thanks!


	3. Meeting old oaths and making new friends

The Huntress agitatedly walked across Mirkwood’s intricate corridors. She crossed by some elves who greeted her, but she absently returned the gesture, lost in her thoughts. 'Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror ...' the Elvenking's pretentious voice echoed in his head.

It wasn’t her lucky day, she thought. Not that she had a lot throughout her hard life, mind you, but this turn of events took the cake. There was a reason neither she nor her sisters never approached the Blue Mountains. It was bad enough having her mother scouting the Iron Hills borders with her brainless dwarf, Dain Ironfoot, and she dreaded to think about what happened to her little sister ... And now, she was herself crossing paths with another accursed descendant of Durin. THE descendant of Durin, she corrected herself.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind from all those dark thoughts that would not lead to anything useful. It was not as the dwarf would know he could claim the allegiance of any Huntress, or in fact, all of them. This was a fact that few people in Middle Earth knew, let alone this errant excuse of blacksmith in search of his lost kingdom. Oh, she marveled, I’m starting to think like thrice-damned Thranduil, must be he is rubbing on me after all our quarreling.

Although the Huntress was not aware of the actual situation in dwarven kingdoms, she realized that if the king was surrounded by the companions she had seen, and not backed by a small army, it meant that the Great Families had not paid him the support and advice they were entitled to their ruler. Moreover, she doubted that the oath of a dead woman had been mentioned in their talks.

In any case, she would ensure that Thranduil did not behave too rudely to his "guests". That would provide her a double pleasure: she would honor her oath and she could once more annoy the pompous elf. If she was honest with herself, she enjoyed this latter activity a lot. Of course, fiddling with the patience of this ancient creature was overly dangerous, but she suspected there was some hidden reason for him to tolerate her flood of irony and disrespect. She had assumed that the elf acted out of interest. He saw her as a pawn in his scheming board of loyalties and securities, and this was the main reason for his tolerance of her rebellious nature. For a  such a smart and independent woman, she was far from imagining the true reason for the Mirkood king behavior.

Going down several flights of stairs and half hidden among the wooded pillars that shaped the structure of the palace, she spied the place where the dwarves were imprisoned. There was not much she could do, these cells were designed to endure an assault, and Elven magic protected them. If she wanted to do more than take a look, she would have to draw a good plan to get them out.

" _Aur vaer_ , Ringlo. What do you guard in there? It smells like an army of goblins ... " the Huntress greeted.

" _Aur vaer_ , Faron. Moreover, I daresay they also share the same manners." The guard smiled. "Are you really curious? Want to take a look? "

"Mmm, I hesitate, my friend. Can a lady as myself low herself so much to talk to a bunch of dwarves? "She said in a playful tone. The guard could not hold his mirth any longer, and with a wave of his hand, he motioned her in, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

The Huntress approached the most crowded cell. The dwarves had not lost a single word of the exchange between them, and thus addressed her only dark gazes and frowns. Only Thorin remembered the words she spoke up in the throne room, and he stood apart, waiting.

" _Dorok_ , my friends. I guess I cannot expect you to make small talk, so let me explain myself. I am _Faron_ , the Huntress, and I traded with Mirkood people for decades. However, my affinities are much closer to dwarves than to elves, if only for the strange way my mother has to choose her…er…companions" she said curtly. The dwarves looked puzzled, and many of them displayed a look of horror.

“No! You misunderstand me, not _that_ kind of companion... " She quickly clarified. " My mother and my sister patrol guarding the borders of king Dain, in Iron Hills ".

A shudder of relief went through the group. 'Well' thought the Huntress 'I daresay those fellows are not very open-minded. In any case, that is not my problem'. Suddenly, a dwarf with a long white beard and very intelligent eyes addressed her.

“Forgive me for my straightforwardness, my lady, but right back there I had the impression you had some kind of understanding with the Mirkwood king. Maybe you can persuade him into letting us go?”

“And what is your name, master dwarf, if I may ask?” she dryly asked.

“Balin, son of Fundin, my lady” He answered.

“Well, master Balin, let me clarify a couple of things for you. First of all, it is a straightforward question indeed, but I will answer you nevertheless. Secondly, there is no lady in here, so please stop addressing me as such. Thirdly, and most important, _understanding_ is not a word anyone in this kingdom will use to describe my interactions with king Thranduil. They will choose _disagreement_ or worse, so if you are searching for someone to plead your cause to the Elvenking, you will better search somewhere else. He will behead you all just to prove me wrong.” She laughed deprecatingly. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you to escape from his dungeons”.

“How on earth will you accomplish that?” asked a very interested Balin. The other dwarves approached slightly to the bars.

However, she did not listen to that last sentence. Her whole body became tense and alert, because she had heard some rhythmic, almost military, steps approaching.

“Silence, now!” she hissed, “Someone is coming”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aur Vaer: Good morning  
> Faron: Hunter (source: http://www.jrrvf.com/cgi-bin/hisweloke/sindarin.cgi?search=faron&cognate=hunter&phon=)  
> Dorok: peace, friendship offering in Khuzdul (source:  
> https://www.lotro.com/forums/showthread.php?390991-Thramili-s-Khuzdul-Dictionary%28revisited%29)  
> Thanks a lot for your kudos! I am still looking for someone to correct my spell faults, as English is not my mother tongue


	4. Unexpected disruption

The footsteps, despite being light and almost inaudible, had indeed a regular and majestic rhythm. There was only one person to walk like this in the entire realm. Actually, there were two, but the second one wouldn’t wear sturdy leather boots to patrol, and his steps would have been definitely noiseless.

" _Hir vuin_ Legolas" she said without even turning around. "What brings you to the lower levels, among the commoners? ". The dwarf called Balin cringed at her apparent lack of respect. If the son resembled the father, a storm was imminent.

However, he never saw the thunder. There was a certain camaraderie between the Huntress and the crown prince, that probed more further when he sighed "Oh, Faron, I don’t know why you insist on giving me this title, and deny it to my father. If you greeted him in a suitable manner in his Halls, the whole situation would be completely different. Anyhow, I knew I would find you here."

"Maybe I deny it to him because I think he has _not_ earned it. Am I so predictable?” she replied with a smile "But you have not answered my question."  
"No, I have not. You know the answer too well. In fact, there are two. First of all, I do not want you here talking with the dwarves. They are prisoners, not some friends of yours, and despite the _inclination_ ” the prince clearly emphasized the word “you can fell to help them, you have no power here. Secondly, my father is looking for you. "

The dwarves who were in the closest cell were extremely surprised by this conversation. Their faces showed a hint of amazement, and the Huntress addressed them: "I guess you’ll think this is no appropriate way to deal with royals. Rest assured, Legolas and I have known for decades, we have hunted, suffered and bled together. I think that gives us quite a degree of familiarity, and I promise you will not find a more honorable and loyal elf in all Middle-Earth’s forests ".

The dwarf with a full tattooed head muttered something under his breath to Thorin about the loyalty of elves. "Silence!" She admonished them "Do not mistake me, I said I will try to help you, but that could change very quickly if you keep insulting my friend. "

"Legolas, _mellon nin_ , let’s go and see what your father wants."

"The usual, I suppose. Start an endless argument with you until those who are present in the room will be willing to dig a hole on the ground and get his head in." The blond elf retorted.

"I didn’t realize you had such a poetic soul, my prince. What a beautiful metaphor, indeed!" She joked lightly.

"Oh, how I wish they were metaphors," sighed him. Therefore, with small puns and suffocated laughter, the two of them moved away from the lower levels to go where the Elvenking awaited. 

The group of dwarves who had spoken to the Huntress remained thoughtful. Initially, having someone on their side in Mirkwood court seemed an improvement. Although the understanding that transpired between her and the usually sour prince led them to believe there was a trap somewhere. All these considerations entertained them to dinner, when they were served some plates filled with vegetables and nuts that displeased them greatly, but given their need for food after their failed trip through the forest, they ate them anyway.

Meanwhile, the prince and the Huntress had come before the king’s bureau. The woman motioned unaware with gesture of discomfort. This was not like Thranduil. When he argued with her-that is to say, every time he talked to her, he made sure they were in front of his subjects, seeking to humiliate her or to get her to show some due respect. Not that he got it, but audience was essential. The elf king had always been one to love appearances, and the pomp, luxury and power that his position provided. Therefore, it was very strange she was summoned to his office.

She glanced to the prince, who replied with a shrug. "I don’t know neither what happens, " he answered his unspoken question" Perhaps he is already tired of the constant bickering between you two, and he wants to sign a truce. He wouldn’t want to do that in front of witnesses. "

"Hope is the last thing you lose, _mellon nin_. Believe me, I wish it were true, as I have nothing against your father, but he must understand that he is not MY King ".

"Now, now. Peace. I've heard this motive so many times it will end up losing its meaning, Faron. Enter now, I beg you. If you need anything, please look for me, I have to go to the front door to watch over the guards. " The prince waved his hand and said goodbye, leaving the Huntress in front of the intricate entrance to the king’s quarter.

Everything was meant to intimidate. The ruler loved to create his own scenarios, and those doors were a blatant proof. Thick branches were linked to create a kind of wild framework in browns and grays, and the size of those swings was fit not only for a woman but also for a cave troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hir vuin: my lord  
> Mellon nin: my friend (source: http://www.realelvish.net/101_sindarin.html)


	5. The king's pleasure is the law

Shaking his head, the Huntress pushed the two wings door open, and was welcomed by the guards flanking the antechamber. A voice absently asked from within "Let her in, and guard the door from the outside."  
  
'Shit', she thought, 'This is serious, he doesn't want any witness. I must control my tongue, least I will end this meeting with a beautiful dagger embedded between my ribs'.  
Lost in those thoughts, she approached the huge table where the king was sitting, reading a scroll. His robes swirled beautifully around his body, and the high back of his chair was also decorated with the King's favored filigree of branches. She therefore placed herself in front of the table and patiently waited for the elf to finish his reading and look up. she was very careful not to make any inclination or formal greeting, as usual.  
  
The occupant of the said chair refused to talk to her, but his thoughts were far from the scroll in his hands. His mind seethed with anger and ill-concealed intention, his  purpose regarding the Huntress was very clear: he wanted her out of his kingdom immediately. She had dared to stand for the dwarf scum and she had turned her back to him once again for the last time. That was, of course, if she wanted to stay alive.  
  
Then, he looked forward, and a part of his rage morphed into something else he could not understand. There she was, dressed in her usual clothes, green pants and leather jerkin clinging to her slender form. She had left her two swords at the entrance, along with her other weapons, but she was still wearing the harness that held them back across her chest, and her chestnut curls cascaded in disarray on her shoulders. 'She is not outstanding', he thought. 'She has no special qualities that would draw a distinction between her and the rest, she is a woman like many others, with some skill at arms -true, she rivaled that of an elf-'. But when he reached forward, and their eyes met, he understood suddenly what he resented every time he spoke with her. What mattered were not her looks, but her spirit. Complex, twisted, ironic, biting, cheerful, mortal. Those adjectives builded up in the elf's brain, and none of them helped him to the task he had set himself, they rather told him he was a fool for letting her go.  
  
"Faron, once again, you have proven yourself unworthy, you have no respect for the laws of this kingdom." He said without preamble, "I'm not willing to tolerate any plea for those shabby dwarfs and their king, who dare to cross my lands without permission, and try to awaken horrors that they are not able to control. "  
  
"Therefore, I have decided that from now on you are no longer welcome in my palace and in my domains. All my people shall know my decision tonight, and the night patrol will escort you to the doors. Do not ever set foot here again. " Stated the monarch succinctly, going back to the parchment, and making an indolent hand gesture. His insides, however, twisted painfully.  
  
"Of course, my lord" He was answered. _My lord_. Those words, their intonation and their meaning pierced his soul as an arrow. So many struggles to get a proper title from her lips, and he had eventually succeeded. To not seeing her ever again.  
  
The elf king rose from his seat animated by an invisible spring. The papers were forgotten on the desktop, and he strode towards her, who was already walking away, blocking her path to the exiting door.  
  
"My lord? MY LORD, you said? " He hissed with ill-concealed anger" Really? What are you playing at, girl? "  
  
"I'm not  _a girl._ as you surely know, Thranduil, and therefore I don't play games." She answered, searching his eyes, facing the king's wrath with a glacial and resolute face herself. "Consider this as a parting gift. You know me so long ago, however you envisage to expel me from your kingdom with a hand gesture and four words. You have no heart, but you want your authority attested at any price. So be it, _aran_. "  
  
"You do not know what you are saying" the king accused, increasingly upset.  
  
"Maybe you are right, but clearly I won't stop to find out. I have to get my stuff done before the night patrol come and chase me from your halls". She replied in a scathing tone.  
  
"You turn my words against me! I will not let you out of here until you explain what in the name of Eru are you intending with your allegations. "  
  
After that last sentence, the high elf stopped the Huntress, who was trying to follow her way through the doors, and grabbed her by the shoulders. She stopped in amazement, a few inches from the king's body. The fabric of her shirt was pretty thin, and it did not stop the burning sensation that his elongated fingers transmitted her, nor did nothing to hide the shaking that roamed the body of her attacker. Looking back up, the Huntress realized that this change did not come from the rage that had edged the king's latter words, but from something much more ancient and dangerous that peered into his eyes. The Elvenking's emotions had been uncovered, and she felt like a deer caught in the middle of a clearing. The only way out was to run, but it was impossible. Her breathing got caught in her throat, and changed, becoming more irregular, mimicking the very animal, facing the imminence of danger and the threat posed by that look.  
  
She could only watch mesmerized as the elf king leaned toward her and violently and passionately kissed her. He clasped her in a hug that had nothing of romance and sweetness,  but was rather born from violence and need, the absolute necessity to release all the feelings he had been suppressing for years. For the duration of his assault, she could not help thinking how different it would have been if it had happened when she was younger and she was amazed by the beauty of the high ceilings, the intricate forest and the thousands of columns planted underground, in the domains that this creature had chosen to shut himself into. She would have done everything in her hands to get him out, they would have hunted together, they would have ridden to other realms and they would have been magnificent, majestic and powerful. But he was now a bitter shell, vain and empty, and she ... she had to face another mission that did not involve the recovering of someone who had had centuries to become sullen and hostile.  
  
However, she could not completely resist the assault to which her senses were subjected. There was fire in the struggles shared between the two of them, there was light whenever their eyes crossed in the halls, there was still something of that almighty warrior who had accompanied his father Oropher in the elf who was currently clung to her like he was shipwrecked. Her resolution cracked for a moment, one that Thranduil recognized with a sound of triumph. His mouth claimed hers as his own, even for those brief moments, and his hands acknowledged all the hidden paths of her body, drawing them like an intricate landscape through her clothes. The Elvenking could not and would not think straight, his head a whirlwind of sensations in which one word prevailed: 'mine'.  
  
With a remarkable effort, she managed to slip from his embrace, breathing heavily, and she murmured: "Let me out. If you still have some remnant of honor, let me go". Startled by these words, Thranduil removed some inches from the door, and she took this opportunity to turn the knob and get out very fast, closing the swings behind her. Two startled guards saw her start a quick race towards her quarters, and they heard a muffled sound through the thick wooden doors, which sounded oddly like "No!".


	6. No one is remorseless

The rush through the Palace Halls had led the Huntress away from the royal guards’ range. Her rooms were near the grain stores, and therefore on an unfrequented area. In fact, few were those who knew the location. It mattered little, but anyway she blocked the door so she would not be disturbed. She stopped short, and a sob broke into her chest, and she shattered in pieces, sliding from the edge of the bed to the floor, her back against the hard wood.  
  
The situation just overcame her. She was no maiden and she was perfectly aware of carnal activities, but that did not meant she was used to any intimacy with men, elves and dwarves. Living in the forest, hunting and killing were no activities that would attract potential mates, although her long legs and slender waist appealed to some of them. Although the fact that she was quite capable of killing with a twist of the wrist instantly tempered their mood, and the masculine attention quickly diverted to more achievable goals.  
  
However, Thranduil was slightly different. From the beginning, he was aware of the lights and shadows around her, if only because of their constant clashes. Even in her distress, to remember the time when he challenged her to a double swords sparring still made her crack a smile. The amazed expression on the usually stern monarch’s face was priceless. Yet, he had kissed her as if she was the only thing he wanted in the whole Middle Earth. Although she felt the urge to respond to his desire with the same intensity, she could not shake out the idea that she was just another plaything to the king. The only way he had to dominate and possess someone he did not understand. So, she thought, I should never give in. All men want one thing.  
  
'But he is not a man' an awkward little voice in her brain whispered. "Besides, don’t you think he can have anyone to quench his needs?' Insisted 'He must feel something to react to your words as he did. Remember that he intended to exile you '.  
  
At that moment, she realized she was still banished from his kingdom. The evening had already fallen, and soon the servants would announce that dinner was served in the Great Hall. She had to leave before the night patrol took over in the doors. Those were the orders from he that would never be his king. Therefore, she began to prepare her things for the imminent departure, determined not to be carried away by despair and sentimentality.  
  
It was not a hard work, she never traveled with too many belongings, but being busy with a specific task distracted her mind and made her focus away from dangerous thoughts about kings, embraces and passion.  
  
The aforementioned king could not know it, but for a while his posture mimicked the Huntress', who was sobbing with her back to the edge of the bed, only the elf had slipped his back over the massive front door. To his credit, his guards have been dismissed, so there was no one who witnessed his temporary weakness. Now he knew the full extent of his madness, which was accumulating inside him from the first time he had crossed swords with that damn woman. In addition, he would not leave things as they were. He wanted no, he corrected himself, he required her back in his arms. He needed it, in the same way he needed to breath or to eat. He had been a fool, mistaking anger for passion, but the memory of the moment she yielded to his touch was so powerful that made his head swirl, repeating the same word over and over again: ‘mine’.  
  
His imagination went a step further and he imagined her not in his office, but in his bedroom, lying on the bed with her curls in disarray and her endless legs slightly open, waiting among the sheets. This thought made his spine thrill, and he awoke from his reverie, forcing himself to think of less pleasant subjects, albeit more urgent ones.  
  
Like the fact that he had just banished her from his domains. Damn it.


	7. I'm not going anywhere

The Huntress had just finished packing her belongings, and her mind was finally focused. Now she had a clear line of throught, to leave the palace as quickly as possible, and to try to say goodbye to her Silvan friends who were on patrol. Suddenly, she remembered the Mirkwood prince and she mused he deserved at least a few farewell words. However, she could not approach the Great Hall, unless she would find his father again, and  she wanted to avoid that situation. So he went to the window, where he had left several writing tools and some books she had borrowed, and she wrote a quick note. 'I worry too much' she thought 'Legolas is always wandering the kingdom borders and I will surely see him again.'  
  
She grabbed her backpack, folded the parchment and left the room. She decided to slip the note under the Elven Prince's door before leaving, so he passed the main hallway and headed to the royal wing. She did not pass by anyone, since the Bell for dinner had rung, and the servants followed their masters to the Great Hall. There were two guards she did not recognize on each side of Legolas' door. They wore their helmet visor down, but she greeted them anyway with a fick of her head as she bent to slip her note under the door. However, when she was raising, someone grabbed her arm, and took away her backpack. She looked up, startled, and saw the guards disarming her, without uttering a word.  
  
"What's the matter? What are you doing? " She asked. "Ci ben-ind?"  
  
They did not answer, and they pushed her towards the stairs. Nobody passed by them, nobody realized what was happening. But for her it was crystal clear. The king had reacted very quickly, the Huntress thought.  
  
"To the dungeons. Of course. Why not? " she mused aloud," I already knew that my temper would bring my doom. Do not you think? Noleg nin lost "  
  
"Peace, Faron." Said one of them, with a sad face. "We can't talk to you. No one can. I'm afraid you won't get out of here in a while. "  
  
They passed by the first cell, where the dwarves watched her in amazement. Thorin and the other dwarf with a white beard, Balin, whispered together, and they seemed a little taken aback.  
  
Several cells after their's there was a small corner with a windowless room, which was not often employed to detain prisoners, but as a storeroom. They had placed a mattress on along with some blankets and a small pile of clothes. A chair and a small rug were all the equipment. She was locked there with her thoughts, and her guards went to notify the king that his orders were fulfilled as quickly as possible.  
  
Thranduil received those news with a wild joy, although his impeccable facade revealed nothing. Trouble was avoided and now he could find her anytime. He finished his dinner and apologized to his companions and his son. He went to his room and changed in a full uniform of his own guard.  
  
It was a smart move, the greens concealed him among the crowd, and the helmet hid completely his identity. He grabbed the service weapon, a long spear, and headed to the lower levels. When he crossed the small patrol who guarded the dwarves, he spoked a few words to them in Elvish, and they quickly vanished. As they passed by, he could not resist to take a look at his new prisoners. Most of them had finished their dinner and were lying in a corner, while the more reluctant ones were on guard and watched him suspiciously. He had chosen a special place to lock her up, so the acoustics would make it impossible to communicate with anyone or ask for help, including to her uncomfortable neighbours.  
  
Leaving his weapon on the side, the elf king took a torch, opened the door and closed it again behind him with two turns of a key he had hanging from his neck. He turned around and he placed the torch aside, when he met a sight that closely resembled what he had imagined hours before in his chambers. The Huntress was lying on the bed, her messy hair spreaded like a halo around her head, and the rest of her body barely covered by a white nightshirt that had seen better days. The blanket hid her legs partially but a white ankle peeked out, and the king had to resist the temptation to rain kisses all over it.  
  
At the sound of the door, the girl looked up. However, she did not recognize the king under the uniform of his own guard, and she believed him to be giving her a message.  
  
"What's wrong?" She sleepily asked. Receiving no response, she insisted "Man ídhrog? Gwathon chaust nîn "  
  
The guard remained silent, and she pulled back the covers in order to sit on the bed. The nightgown covered her up to her thighs, and the torch light emphasized the fairness of her exposed limbs. The guard approached the bed and reached out, touching her arm and he gestured her not to get up.  
  
The king in disguise did not know if the shiver he felt under his touch was due to the cold or if it was a reaction to his hands, but whatever it was he decided that he liked the feeling. He was so close he could smell her fragrance, a blend of leather, wood and flowers. All those facts, together with the sight of the pimples in her fair skin, overturned what little remained of rationality in his head.  
  
Without removing the arm that held her on the bed, he used the other to take out the helmet that hid his identity and to bring her face closer. Trapped between the Elvenking and the wall, the Huntress had no way out. In addition, her drowsiness did not help her to have quick reflexes, so astonished she was to discover that the anonymous guard was no other than Thranduil.  
  
"No" she whispered. "No, Thranduil. Do not do this to me. "  
  
"What?" He inquired, just little inches from her face, pinning her to the mattress. "You can not deny that you want me. We kissed, and I have feel you shaking under my fingers, even when you didn't know it was me. "  
  
"Want and desire are tricky concepts, Thranduil. What are you looking for? "She asked, knowing how love and desire were very different to elves.  
  
The Elvenking watched her writhing under his height, helpless but still powerful, and he did not hesitate a moment in answering: "I would ask for nothing but for you. Because you are my desire and passion, and I had been blind for too long. You'll be mine now, because I have closed my eyes to you. I was wrong and now I want them open to see you, to touch you, to smell you and to taste you until I get you under my skin like a tattoo. Then, and only then I will let you go.  
  
Anyway, she knew she could not, and would not escape. She had kissed him, and she did not want to fool herself, this elf appealed to her. Huntresses, unlike elves, were very liberal with their carnal relationships with other races. In fact, the survival of their species was based on this fact. No matter the male donor, their descendants would always be Huntresses. Therefore, they had no qualms about sharing his bed with those males with appealing features. And of course, the Sindar who stood above her had lots of charisma, a poweful body, some skill with weapons and a language that made her pulse speed up. So who was she to resist?


	8. Tricky doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware! Naughty chapter! And more to come... ;-)

The Huntress was completely at the Elvenking's mercy, and she had not even moved since he had her trapped against the makeshift bed. It was too small, and it creaked dangerously when the woman, taking a sudden decision, arched her back to cross the distance that separated her face from his, and kissed him for the second time in that ill-fated day. However, her kiss was not like anything he had experienced before. This dull, deep and sensual kiss dragged the elf’s mind on a whirlwind of emotions that converged on his epidermis, creating an urgent need for contact. He could only think of removing all layers that separated him from this gorgeous being’s skin.

She broke the kiss briefly, only to receive a reproachful look, which easily morphed into a dark look of desire when she took the hem of her nightshirt, lifting it above her shoulders and dismissing it on the ground, leaving her body exposed to the king’s gaze. She was not especially shy, so she kept her eyes on him, just to have the privilege of watching his usually dispassionate look change and roam her body with evident approval. Thranduil was truly fascinated, he never thought the body of a mortal so beautiful. Fitted with more curves than an elf's, her figure was slender and harmonious, shaped by exercise and by weapons practice. Her endless legs were combined with a flat stomach, her back slightly arched and her small but perky breasts pointing their hardened nipples to the elf’s own body, and a long neck like a swan’s completed an image that made his head turn lightly and his thoughts turn dark, like after drinking a good wine.

Oh, and he intended to drink it to the very end, he thought. He quickly discarded his borrowed clothes aside, revealing his well-defined torso and his long arms. His hair cascaded on both sides of their faces, as a curtain which isolated them from the word outside when he bent to kiss her again. His hands began to move along her body, learning to recognize her bare skin. Next, he wanted to recognize her taste. Therefore, the king went on, drawing a line of kisses along her neck and down to catch a nipple between his lips, and proceeded to suck it with an almost animalistic fervor. This caused her to arch her back further and stifle a groan. Hearing it, he raised his head and said:  
"No one can hear you, Faron. In fact, here you are not the Huntress but the prey."

True to his words, he returned to catch her breasts possessively in his hands, only to massage them while his mouth was approaching the intersection between her neck and her exposed shoulders and bite slightly her skin. His efforts were rewarded by more moans of pleasure. Unable to resist temptation, the Huntress tried to sit and proceeded to explore his body with an eagerness that rivaled his. Where she was round and welcoming, the elf’s body was angled and sculpted as a statue's. She was utterly lost. At one point, she slid her nails lightly along the male torso, up to the navel, and an involuntary shiver of her bed partner answered her movement. Grinning mischievously, she took this momentary loss of control to turn him around and tower over him. In that position, she ran her tongue over the same route their nails did, and stopped to place a kiss on his navel. From that position, she looked up and the vision almost stole her breath. There was nothing in the world more erotic than to watch the mighty king with his head thrown back, pleasure painted on his face and eyelids narrowed by desire.

Therefore, she followed her route to approach his throbbing erection, taking his cock in her hands and bringing her mouth to it, and slowly she circled the head with her tongue, which elicited small animal sounds from the elf. Smirking, she proceeded to swallow his member fully and intensified the pace until the Elvenking was merely a bundle of nerves, sweat and lust. He was almost incoherent but he had not reached his peak yet.

Aware of this, she smiled and raised her head. She stroked the inside of his powerful thighs, a warrior feature, and placed small kisses along them, when suddenly she was completely lifted and turned onto her back. She was caught between the mass of Thranduil pectoral muscles and the mattress, which creak in tune with her squeak. She felt the elf's hand directly between her legs, caressing her and finding her already wet and ready for him. He toyed briefly with the curls around her core, and he put a finger to his mouth, licked it and mutter: "Exquisite ...".

However, now he wanted to sink himself into the folds of her body and stick his cock in the warm, moist depths that she offered. Therefore, siding her body with his, he proceeded to penetrate her to the hilt, she answered with a long moan of pleasure, and her hands clung furiously to his shoulders. All this started a dance with a frantic pace, as both had held themselves for too long, and they were eager to enjoy each other's body.

They both arrived intertwined at the highs of their peaks, first her and her contractions inside sending him over the edge. However, when they were still in each other's arms on the cot, they heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, and the door half-opened.

The Huntress risked a glance to the entrance, however, she saw no one, the opening was empty. Something very strange happened, the little rug that was next to the door moved and she distinctly heard a whisper saying:

“Confusticate and bebother me. Wrong cell”

The door closed again without noise, as if guided by an invisible hand. Thranduil and the Huntress rested frozen for a moment, surprised, but the Elvenking quickly rose to dress and he ran out without looking back, shouting: "Guards!"


	9. Little things that rule the world

The Huntress was truly amazed. Without a glance back, without even a gesture, Thranduil had gone in a flash to chase the unseen intruder and that changed entirely the intimate moment they had just shared. The dispassionate king was headed to the corridors on the lower levels, but he had forgotten something very important in his haste. The cell door had been left open. This was no time to feel hurt by the lack of interest he had shown her, but to move, and the faster, the better. She sat on the bed, quickly cleaned the fluids that slid between her legs with her own bed sheets and dressed. The spear that completed Thranduil’s guard uniform was also resting on the side, and she took it as a protection, although she did not intend to use it. Risking a look into the hallway, she found that there was no one, as all the guards were busy attending to the call of their king.  
  
Trying not to make any noise, the Huntress slid smoothly along the wall until she reached the cell where the dwarves were located. Just as she was approaching the bars, her body struck something, and it answered with a slight "ummphh". Uninentionally, she had just found her mysterious intruder, and she planned to use that knowledge to her advantage.  
  
"Who are you?" she whispered "Show yourself, please."  
  
She heard a faint rustle of clothes near her arm, and she instinctively closed her hand around the sound, to prevent whoever was hidden to run. Meanwhile, the dwarves seemed familiar to what she was facing, and they watched the scene with interest.  
  
Only a few seconds after, and apparently with a deep consideration on his part, a round face appeared out of nowhere, framed by a tangle of blonde curls which matched a small body, even smaller than a dwarf’s. But his eyes shone with honesty, now tinged with a little surprise.  
  
"You should let me go, my lady. My issues do not concern you. Perhaps you will want to flee from here as my friends do" and he motioned to said dwarves. "Especially after seeing the mmm, treatment" and here he blushed like a poppy "that you has been subjected by the guards of the prison."  
  
She could not help but let out a musical laugh, thinking how strange the whole situation was. "Ah, Master Dwarf, what do you think I am doing then, sliding down these halls, a pleasant walk?"  
  
"I'm not a dwarf, my lady. I'm a hobbit." He answered. "And there is no need to be cheeky"  
  
"If we are talking about titles, nor I am a lady. Have you got the keys to free your friends?" the Huntress replied.  
  
"No, apparently I was wrong and took the keys to your cell, instead of theirs. So I am forced to look for them again, if you have the kindness to let me go ..."  
  
A thought crossed her mind, and she devised a new plan to escape that maybe, just maybe could work.  
  
"Of course, Master Hobbit. But I have to ask you two things. First, I would like you to forget what you have seen just now. I am a quite reasonable, but I will not hesitate in plucking your eyes out to avoid you watching things like this again. " she threatened "Second, and more important... you're going to get back with me to my cell, and you're going to lock me in again. Keep that key, and when you got your friends’, please free us all at once. You will need me if you want to escape from Mirkwood." ‘And from the king’s wrath’ she added silently to herself.  
  
Thorin answered her from his cell, frowning his bow. "Why should we trust you? As far as I'm concerned, you may have been placed here just to spy on us, and then selling us to the elves?"  
  
Before she could answer, the hobbit said: "Believe me, Thorin, she is more interested in leaving this forest than all of us together".  
  
The Huntress assumed that the kindness of hobbit was due to the assumption that she was being forced by the guards, and she shrugged. 'He is a kind soul. Unfortunately, everything is not as simple as he believes' she thought.  
  
Hearing the Hobbit, the dwarf king bowed his head and said, "Okay, Bilbo. But close the door and make sure she is not a threat to anyone After all, we can just throw away your key if we feel something is amiss. "  
  
Therefore, the small being followed the Huntress back to her cell, where he proceeded to double-lock her again, and he disappeared immediately. She was left alone again with her thoughts, but this new idea that had blossomed spreaded in her mind like a vine. Thranduil would rage when he discovered that not only their dwarven prisoners were vanished, but also that his new toy was gone.  
  
’Serves him right' she thought 'He could have kissed me or covered me with the sheets, I don’t know; just told me something before he was gone. Alas, deeply selfish as he is, when he realized that someone had seen him, he leaved in a minute and he already forgot about me.’ Nothing is scarier than the wrath of a woman who feels she had been used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to write another chapter next week, so I decided to go for two this friday instead. Hope you'll enjoy them, and I will post another one around 12th april. Sorry for the delay!


	10. Until the very end (part I)

Alone again in her windowless cell, the Huntress decided that her remaining choices were not very satisfying. Her new plan depended on the ability of a small creature that, if what she had witnessed was true, did not seem very skilled in warfare, but she also knew that first appearances could eventually deceive. Therefore, she would wait for that strange being –was it a _hobbit_?- to find a way to free his friends, and that those friends of him to decide she could escape with them. In any case, she mused, on the bright side I would honor my oath to bring them home only if they trust me enough to open my cell door.

‘Life is made of small decisions' she thought, before dropping back onto the bed to let sleep claim her.

Meanwhile, the Elvenking and his guards were frantically searching all routes, looking for the invisible warrior who had been spying at the low levels. It was disturbing enough that someone had gone through the doors of his palace without alerting the guards, furthermore he had been the witness of something highly inappropriate, reflected the angry elf.

'On the other hand', he said to himself, 'he had no way of recognizing me down there. For all purposes, I was just a guard taking advantage of a prisoner '. Taking advantage was the understatement of the century, was the next thing that crossed his mind unbounded. He even had no words to define it, but his body reacted instantly to the images that this particular memory conjured. What a pity not to have had more time to explore her slender body, and above all, the fiery spirit that resided in her. But now, his main purpose was to find the intruder who wandered in his halls.After hours of fruitless searching, the elf king met the captain of his guards, Tauriel.

"I do not understand how on Arda someone has get to pass through my _impenetrable_ guard sentry" he said icily, "I hope you would've found the intruder by tomorrow, or else I will consider you as the _only_ accountable for this failure, and you’ll be downgraded".

"I'm terribly sorry, _hir vuin_. I'll double the patrols and I’ll not let anyone enter or leave this palace. We'll find him" the she-elf said, bowing her head in shame. However, her eyes showed a small shadow of doubt whether his master would have imagined this strange presence in the kingdom. It was not as invisible warriors wandered usually through the land of the elvenkind.

"You are dismissed. First thing tomorrow, ask my son Legolas to help with the search, I have other matters to attend to. "answered the king, gesturing her to leave.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Please accept my apologies" said Tauriel, and was gone to double the sentries and lecture the patrols. It was to be a long night.

For his part, the Elvenking leaved to his quarters, where he proceeded to prepare for the night. His mind was clouded by the lack of sleep, as he took on his wide canopy bed, fitted with crisp sheets of a pristine whiteness and many soft pillows to achieve a most enjoyable rest. Then he overlaid it with the image of the squeaky mattress that he had left a few hours ago, and an evil thought crossed his mind, but it would have to wait until next morning.

Morning came sooner than usual for Thranduil, who had had a restless sleep, and he decided to take advantage of that particular fact. He put on the guard's uniform he had worn the night before, but he suddenly realized his spear was missing. 'Well,' he said to himself 'I hope this armor suit would stop the beating I will surely get when I open the door'. With this thought in mind, he returned to the lower levels, where everyone was resting. He reopened the small storeroom with the key he still had around his neck, and he found himself, as he had thought, in front of the point of his own spear.

"Lower your weapon, _Faron_ , lest you want to lose your arm. You are too sleepy to pose a threat, "the king said quietly to his attacker.

"I don’t think you should care. Leave me alone. Did not you have something urgent to solve? Go back to your duties! "she shouted, her voice filled with venom.

That was not what he expected, for sure."What the ...?" The king was astonished. Recalling the events of the previous day, he came to a sudden realization. When they were interrupted, he was still _inside_ her, and he went running for the intruder, leaving her without a word. 'Damn it!’ he thought.

A woman scorned was, indeed, a dangerous being. But first, he would have to disarm her, if he didn’t want to end up with a spear in one eye. So with a quick turn of his arm, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it up until the Huntress dropped the spear with a groan of pain. The sound itself awoke again the Elvenking lesser instincts, and he decided to throw caution to the wind and, grasping his prisoner by the waist, he covered her mouth with his own hands.

"Now you will come with me, Faron, whether you want it or not." he whispered, "You won’t get away again. Don’t you dare to resist, or those dwarves in which you are much interested will pay it dearly. "

Faced with his threat, and mostly with the tone he used, the Huntress stopped squirming. Without resistance, the king led her to the quarters he had just left. It was still early in the morning, and his valet will take hours to go and wake him. He was also careful to lock the doors from the inside, not to be disturbed.

Still holding her, he approached a shelf with several bouts of Elvish rope, soft and silky but also very strong. He made four knots with them in each limb of her prisoner, whose eyes widened considerably. Thranduil could easily read fear and understanding in them. Ignoring the feeling, he carried her to his majestic bed. It was very easy to place a strip of silk in her mouth to muffle the curses she was muttering, but even easier to tie her wrists to the bedposts and her ankles to the deer antlers that suitably decorated the side of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE cliffhanger, I know. Sorry, I will post Part II as soon as possible, maybe even today. Comments are very much welcome!


	11. Until the very end (part II)

Once it was done, the Elvenking withdrawn to admire his work. As in his wildest dreams, she was writhing helplessly in the middle of the bed, with her curls spreaded like a halo around her head. Her nightwear still did not cover her curved thighs, of which he already had a look yesterday. The elf decided that the Huntress was more gorgeous in daylight, as it allowed him to appreciate without being rushed the small freckles all over her body, her shallow breathing, her round bosom, a recent scar on the side, her sensitive skin bristling, the shadow of her sex through the nightshirt. Speaking of clothes, they were not at the scenario Thranduil was trying to recreate. So he took the knife he used to open the mail with a twisted smile and he approached the bed. Slowly, he slid it across the front of her shirt, ripping the fabric and revealing what it was hiding in all its splendor. Then, the elf’s breathing halted for a moment. In the morning light her breasts and hard nipples seemed to him mouthwatering, her sex was covered with a thatch of slightly red and curly hair, and she sported, oh Eru above, the mark of his teeth on her left shoulder .

The gag he had placed stifled her sounds, but it did nothing to disguise the Huntress’ irregular breathing, terrified and excited in equal measure. Her helplessness, the ropes and the knife Thranduil had just used prompted her to frantically try to free herself, but with every twist of her body, the Elvenking’s gaze became more dark and dangerous.  
The ruler made quick work of his clothes, and after checking again that the door was properly closed and that he would not be bothered, he approached her with the slowness of a predator. He got into the bed, lay beside the writhing woman and whispered:

"Now, Faron, I have all the time in the world to do as I please. Because in this land I AM the king. And my will now is to hear you moan, beg and finally scream my name, and I want to be inside you when you do so."

This statement made her body froze for a few seconds and her heart skipped a few beats. However, moments later she resumed her efforts to free herself with renewed energy, shaking her head from side to side, looking for an exit.

"There is no way out, Faron. I guess, by your previous words, that you wanted my full attention. You already have it. Are not you happy? Am I not, as you said in the Throne Room, a _compassionate_ king? " the elf chuckled and he removed the gag.

A torrent of curses in several languages greeted him, including the phrases 'let me out of here', 'Let me go, damn it' or 'this is not funny, Thranduil, just stop this madness'. The last sentence in particular seemed especially amusing to the Sindar, who still stared her from the side of the bed.

"Anyone would think you were trying to give me orders. Even with your limbs tied you still challenge me. That pleases me a lot; you would not be here if it was not for that. In any case, we will see how far your indomitable spirit goes."

And with those words, the king prepared to taste the feast beside him. He ran his tongue along the edge of the long neck, breathing his feverish breath on both her shoulder bones, admiring the teeth brand -his brand- that adorned as a tattoo the woman’s white skin. With both arms stretched on the bed, she was at his mercy, and he took advantage to kiss her again, drowning her muffled curses. As he did, his hands went of their own accord to the hips of the Huntress, who was still moving under his weight, to place them perpendicular to his, and this sweet friction awoke his own lust and made his already hardened member twist in agony.

She still rejected him, and continued to squirm when he placed his head on her bosom to literally devour both breasts. They tasted sweet, like a watermelon. He risked nibbling lightly a nipple, and he was rewarded by a low moan from his prey. ‘I need to hear that sound again, and soon’ he thought. Therefore, he repeated the gesture with the other nipple, and received the same answer. Satisfied, he proceeded to suck both pained breast, and massage them with his hands, while his head, winding like a snake, was now directed to the most sensitive areas of her neck, kissing, blowing, biting and licking the entire area until her breathy moans became a symphony.

He had not even touched her core, but he could feel the heat emanating from her in waves, inviting him to penetrate her again and to reclaim her as his. However, he said he would not do it without making her beg, so he used all his self-control to avoid the need to impale her on the sheets like a butterfly display. He had not reckoned the stubbornness of this woman, that even reduced to a nervous wreck and delirious skin did not lowered herself to plead. Extreme measures were called for, and the elf had a feral smile on. He slid his hand between her legs and he lubricated his fingers in her moisture, then started drawing circles on her point of pleasure faster, until her back arched hard, looking for something he was willing to deny her.

At that point, he stopped and withdrew from her body, watching her from above. She growled in frustration, and opened her eyes. Her irises were almost black now, obscured by desire, and they had lost all rationality. She was an animal of instincts, and these instincts were denied. She arched her back again, trying unsuccessfully to reach the elf above her. Seeing that she had no other option, she began to talk with a deeper voice than usual, veiled with desire.

"This is what you want, lord of the elves. You want me to beg, the same as you had tried to make me bend and call you _my_ _lord_. Tell me, did I give in then? What makes you think I will do it now? "

Those words took away the last traces of coherence of the Elvenking’s mind, and he whispered, "You do not want to beg ... okay. Well then, I’ll make you cry. "

And without further ado, he plunged his member to the hilt in the warm body of the Huntress, making her arch her back again and to hiss a 'Yes!’ in triumph. Furious, the elf withdrawn from her, only to return and slide in her as if her body had specially been designed for him. While he established his own pace, he discovered that her struggles had worked, and she had managed to free her legs from the bed antlers. Lifting her hips, she proceeded to wrap her legs around his powerful flanks, receiving his thrusts with delight. Her moans were increasing in volume, not a scream, but enough for him to sense that she was close to her climax. He was not able to deny her that pleasure, so Thranduil increased the pace and noted with satisfaction as her inner walls throbbed around his cock, and she threw her head back, lost in a wave of sensations.

However, he would not let her go just like that. Taking advantage of her weakness, the king quickly broke her wrists ties and flipped her over, placing her hands together above her head and tying them to the headboard. She was helpless and in the throes of her pleasure, so she offered an erotic sight, with narrowed eyelids, tied to his bed with his long slightly curved back that ended in a rounded behind. The king covered her spine with infinite kisses, approaching the coccyx, and once there, he lifted her hips slightly to re-position himself between her legs. With a new moan, she received him very ready. Thranduil had the impression of taming a wild animal, and he rode her as such, and she began to moan again, higher and higher, until she was really screaming rambling sounds that caused chills in the Elvenking’s spine. It was not enough, so he slid one hand down her hip to her clitoris, returning to make quick circles around it that came in step with the rhythm of his thrusts. Unable to bear so much stimulation, the Huntress moaned, screamed and begged "Go on, please, yes, more please ... Thranduil" Finally, he told himself, as he was pushed above the edge and jumped into an ocean of pleasure and sensations and he emptied his seed inside her. At least she had said my name.

Exhausted, he fell over her like a blanket, and he freed her aching wrists, kissing them. She raised herself lazily to catch his lower lip slightly between her teeth and to torture him a little more. He could only slide to the side and wrap his arm around her when the heaviness of sleep claimed them both, in the middle of a devastated bed, with ruined sheets and cushions in disarray, two magnificent bodies entwined in the morning light that filtered through the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'll try to post it, and here you are. My second naughty chapter. Sorry for the eventual mistakes, and feel free to comment!


	12. Duty calls

Several hours later, a repeatly knocking at the door awakened Thranduil. His valet was whispering through the wood: "My lord? Are you feeling well?"

Sitting up, he quickly walked to the doorway and whispered back: "Enough! No more noises here! I do not want to be bothered. Reschedule my duties for all this morning."

"But my lord ... the envoys from the Grey Havens await you when the bells ring, and you have a lunch with the Craftsmen Guild’s Head" his valet muttered, panic edging his voice.

"All right" The upset elf said "I'll be ready in an hour or so. No one will disturb me until then."

"Of course, _hir vuin,_ "

After hearing his subject’s steps moving away from the door, the king turned back to his bed. The sight that awaited him stole his breath, and made his body answer accordingly. The sheets were crumpled on his side of the bed, but meanwhile the Huntress had stretched diagonally to fill most of his place. She was asleep with her hair covering her face and the stance of a big feline, her long and exquisite back rounded and turned to the Elvenking. He walked slowly to avoid disturbing her sleep and wrapped himself around her, encircling her body with his arms. She stretched as an overgrown wild cat at his touch, but to his surprise, she did not wake up, merely fitted in the concave space that his body created like a spoon.

The elf king could not sleep, but decided to seize the opportunity to enjoy a perfect moment like a rose in full bloom. He knew this feeling was a delusion, that the world would soon move on and that she would surely hate him, especially after having dragged her almost by force to his bed. But in this particular instant he held her in his arms and he would not want to be anywhere else. Sighing, he dipped his nose between the curls covering her neck and breathed deeply her fragrance, branding it into his brain. He finally knew how her cries, her touch and her smell were. Nevertheless, he was not ready to let her go.

She woke up with a shiver, noticing a breath on her neck and a strange warmth surrounding her. Her brain was still clouded from sleep, and she had not recognize the place where she was, until she heard a voice whispering in her ear:

"Good morning, Faron"

Startled, she recalled the early morning and previous evening events. She knew the voice speaking to her, as well as the slender body around her, the very same that had made her cry out in pleasure and pain, and she shuddered involuntarily. She tried to free herself, but she knew beforehand that it would be impossible, his strong arms trapped her like a shear.

"Peace, Faron. I will not hold you against your will, but I want you to listen carefully. I have duties to attend" muttered the same voice “but I'd like nothing better than to bury myself forth between your legs until you could not walk properly. Unfortunately, I have obligations to fulfill, although I'll very much like find you here when I return. There will be guards at the door, if you are thinking to flee again, and the windows are very high. If anything, you'll find this accommodation more comfortable than your previous one."

"I will not stay here. I'm no concubine and the comforts your rooms can offer are not in my interest" she replied "so be aware, the moment you cross that doorstep, you'll never see me again".

The elf king gritted his teeth and lifted himself slightly so that he could look into her eyes. A shiny look of defiance answered him, the very same that had made him lose all control. He could not resist and kissed her angrily, feeling as she answered him in earnest despite the reluctance that her earlier words conveyed. There was something addictive and dangerous between them, that attracted them to each other like moths to the light, and they would eventually end up burning.

Growling like an animal, she turned and she stuck to his naked body, deepening the kiss. There was not an inch of skin without contact, and he could feel all heat, her heartbeat and her energy flowing off her in waves. Making a supreme effort, he detached from her and breathlessly asked her:

"Won't you stay here? Don't you want this?"

"Ah, I told you that desire is not exactly the same as want. I do not want to be here, but I desire you. Actually, I’ve desired you long ago." was her surprising answer.

Thranduil knew it was a battle loosed from the beginning. For the sake of the Valar above, cursed the king, he was in his own kingdom. She _would_ not leave his side, and that was final. He will enjoy her lust and sate his craving until their wings will burn. He angrily got up and took one of his silken robes to wrap himself in, throwing another one to the Huntress.

However and against all odds, she rose from the bed completely naked, shamelessly crossing the room heading to the bathroom. The king watched her, still fascinated by her curves, her skin and her smooth movements. He heard splashing sounds and he assumed that she was erasing the marks of their previous activities, and a feeling of disappointment ran through his mind, although he took comfort in the fact that it would take several days for his teeth’s brand over her collarbone to fade. After a few moments, she came out with the majesty of a queen and she wrapped the dressing gown around her, perhaps tying the belt stronger than necessary.

"Fine" she said. "Your duty claims you, isn’t it? I'm ready to be brought to my cell "

"Always disrespectful, Faron. Do you think you can give me orders? And you will address me as your lord. " he answered irritably.

She laughed softly and replied with a mischievous tone "Ah, I had thought this matter was settled. It was precisely this claim that had led me to my actual circumstances ..."

Cursing under his breath, Thranduil could not help but to internally agree. Without altering his cool demeanor, he went to the door and opened it, calling the guards with a gesture of his hand.

"You will lead this woman to her _quarters_. And make sure they are properly locked. "


	13. Back to the beginning

Just some time later, she was back in his cell. If the guards were surprised to see her dressed in their King’s robes, they did not point it. Actually, they did not say anything all the way down the lower levels.

Once there and locked again, she threw the expensive silk in a pile into a corner and she dressed in her clothes that were still on the chair, as if the world had not turned upside down for her in some hours. In fact, it was exactly what she intended to do from now on. She would continue as if nothing had happened, as if it had been only a dream, as if the thought of his touch did not cause the hair on her arms stand up and make her shiver.

'Oblivion is quite agreeable traveling companion' she thought 'and if I'm not mistaken, I'll start a difficult one soon. Of which I would unlikely come out alive and unharmed, so any other line of thought would be a waste of time.'

Furthermore, she forced all the dangerous sensations and feelings to the last corner of her brain, and locked them there. Focusing her thought in present, she began to plan an course of action that would allow her to make the group of dwarves who surely would open her door shortly safe in their journey.

She was not wrong. Before nightfall, the lock on her door turned and she came face to face with the hobbit –Bilbo, wasn’t it?- and he gestured her to come out quickly. Wordlessly, he followed until the end of the hallway, where they found the rest of the dwarven Company, all ready to strike but unarmed. 'Well' she mused 'if we are spotted, we will become an easy prey.'

However, it seemed that the will of the Valar was on their side. Silently, or at least as quietly as thirteen dwarves could walk, they headed to the cellar, not far from where she had her quarters. The Huntress could not understand why they were heading there. It was certainly a lonely place, but it would surely become a trap for them.

The same thought was plaguing Thorin's mind, because she heard him arguing heatedly with the Halfling, but he finally ended accepting his reasons, she could not even guess why until they reached the cellar. There she understood his plan, and a smile lit up his face, surprised by the intelligence and the supreme simplicity of it. It could work, she thought.

Therefore, she helped the other dwarves into closed barrels that would go down the stream to reach Lake City, pushing the hobbit into the last one. However, she quickly realized that someone had to open the trapdoor, so she took the handle in her hands and pulled down hard. The first barrels rolled noisily and their escape route was exposed to the fine elven hearing. Very soon, she started to hear footsteps came dangerously close to the area, and warning cries that sounded though the door, but she was not going to leave until all the dwarves were safe and sound down the stream.

The cellar door burst open just at the same time the last cask fell. She had just the time to lock her eyes with a very angry Elvenking, who rushed into the cellar leading his guards, before jumping with a graceful movement and plunge into the water bubbling under the ramp, followed by a cloud of arrows that failed to reach her. Thranduil’s cries of anger and despair ringed in her ears and echoed for a long time in the cellar vaults.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, short chapter. Another one will be added in just a few hours.


	14. Life goes on

And life went on in the Black Forest, as always. They just learned to move on. Legolas found a farewell note from her friend after his patrol, and was saddened because he realized that there would not be many chances to see her alive again. His father walked his own kingdom halls in anger, but his only son was not capable to point the reason for his unusual behavior. Probably because the dwarves escaping just under his nose had deeply hurt his pride, thought the prince. He could not be more wrong, as he would later discovered.

In any case, life also went on to Thorin's Company, now with a new addition in the form of a wet and cranky Huntress, the water of the stream in her hair made her shake herself clean like a dog on the bank. The other dwarves had gotten out the barrels slightly bruised but otherwise unharmed and they were waiting for their leader’s orders.

The dwarf took a concealed look towards the little hobbit, who was taking off a splinter of wood that was painfully embedded on his arm, and he basked on the surprising nature of this creature. He was so soft and sweet in appearance, but able to cope with an Orc only armed with that toothpick of him, and smuggling all them out of the Dark Forest realm without casualties. If he did not know better, he would say he was acting as a dwarfling. Those golden curls, they absolutely needed someone to braid them ... Shaking his head, the future king made quick work of his dangerous line of thought, but not before his furtive glances were detected by none other than his friend Dwalin, which gave him a sneering look.

Watching forward, he realized they were at the lake shore, in front of the City, their last milestone before reaching the Lonely Mountain, which rose haughty against the autumn sky. The problem now was getting weapons and supplies for the assault to the dragon's lair.

"We need to build a raft," said a voice that was not his, with a slight tone of authority. Turning his head, he looked at the owner of said voice that stood beside him. He watched her with a frown, probably thinking about his own demons. That were very much alike hers, not that he knew.

"We have just meet, my lady, so I will pass your insolence as unawareness, but I must warn you that no dwarf in this company will accept orders _from you_. And I would also demand to be addressed in the right terms for a king” he annoyingly said.

"What’s about you kings and your titles? Are you so insecure you must constantly remind others of your status?" The woman asked carelessly. "For me, authority is not imposed, it is earned. The thrice-damned elf never got it ... "and here she stopped talking and sighed.

"I do not expect anything more than the traditional stubbornness of a dwarf. Listen to me, Thorin Oakenshield, and listen carefully because I will only say this once. I'm here because I need to fulfill an oath, but I am not very keen on this quest. You are neither _my lord_ or _my king_ , and I will not address you as such. The same way, I will kindly ask you not call me _my lady_ because I am not your or anyone possession, nor a lady. So if you want my help -and I assure you are going to need it soon- you will have to learn to accept it."

The purpose and honesty of her words surprised the dwarf leader. He weighed the circumstances and decided that he preferred a person capable of wielding a sword or a bow, although her tongue will not flatter him nor called him by his titles.

"Okay. On your terms." He replied, changing his voice "But if we're going to be on equality term, I do not even know your name, woman.”

"Elves call me Faron, which also means Huntress. But my mother called me Selene, and she is in first-name basis with your cousin Dain Pie Iron –better in first-name insults and fighting, with those two you would never know-. My family is entitled as dwarven friends for generations. "

"Selene or Huntress will do, then" said the dwarf "Although I hope you will bear in mind that I'm still the leader of this expedition and I need you to obey my orders, if the occasion arises."

"Of course, Master Dwarf. I can have quite a _temper_ , but I am not stupid, nor have I a death wish," the Huntress replied with a pleased smile. "I am well aware of your prowess in battle. I won’t not hesitate to serve under your command, if the occasion arises." she continued, paraphrasing him.

"Good to know. I'm glad we understand each other." And with this last sentence, the dwarf turned his back to the woman and walked to the rest of his company. "In any case, I think she's right. We should design and build a raft. "

"But it will take a little time, Thorin" said a dwarf called Bofur.

"And so we have to start as soon as possible," grunted the bald dwarf, Dwalin.

She stared at the horizon with a strange sense of anticipation, as if something was about to happen, and she saw a small black mark on the lake approaching towards them. It was a barge, ruled by someone she could not already see. Turning around, she remarked,

"Maybe that raft is not necessary, by the way. Someone is coming from Lake City. I think they will be looking for the barrels, and they had seen us for sure."

"Please, none of you utter a single word!" Thorin commanded. "We aren’t armed, and that man could be dangerous. Balin, you will talk to him. And be careful."  



	15. The Man in the lake

Indeed, the barge headed for the shore, and at the bow was a man armed with a longbow, aimed directly at the head of the dwarf king. He was dark haired, and had an strange look of sadness around him, yet he stand proud like some kind of royalty. The Company stiffened at the threat, but they said nothing.

"Who are you?" Asked the boatman. "What are you doing here?"

"We are some poor craftsmen that got lost," Balin sharply answered. "We're heading to the Iron Hills, where we intend to sell our craft as blacksmiths. Maybe you could take us aboard to get to Laketown?"

"Craft, you said? Really? Then maybe you can explain me why your craftsmen rest in a perfect battle range, and what exactly happened to the exceptionally high craftsman whose gaze is throwing daggers at me and seems to be protecting the little craftsman around him, that apparently does not share the same dwarven race as the rest" the man sarcastically replied.

"Besides," he continued, "I know where these barrels come from. And I think that certainly they weren’t in this state... ," and he pointed to an arrow sticking out of one of them, clearly elven made. "when they left Mirkwood."

Balin sighed, clearly defeated. However, before he could reply, the Huntress said from her place. She had not stopped shielding the small hobbit with her body, she owed him, after the role he had performed in her freedom from the dungeons.

"An honorable man like you would surely understand the situation in which we find ourselves. It is clear you also have people under your protection," she emphasized" and we must made to Laketown as soon as possible. Maybe our gold will help you and your lovely family."

"I do not know how you've guessed it, lass, but I have indeed two children. And they need to be feed. So it is settled, then, I will take you there for a fair price. " He replied, defeated in turn. Balin looked up hopeful, and he quickly put in motion, gathering the money needed for their passage. All dwarves contributed, and the Huntress gave a small gold ring she wore on her little finger.

"Here you have, my lord," he handed the money cautiously and he continued "I hope we can enter the city without rising too much suspicion."

"Leave that to me, and go up on board quickly. There are several guard posts and the custom station, so you'll have to promise that you will do as I command" the man warned.  
"Of course." Balin nodded, looking to the others to compel them to give their approval. Reluctantly, all dwarves nodded.

The journey was a little long, and the Huntress took advantage to sit next to the hobbit. "Tell me, Bilbo Baggins, why did you decide to get me out of the cell? I know your fellow dwarves do not like me, and maybe they will be angry with you for it. By the way, " she said, lowering her voice," your cellar plan was a master piece. Simple yet brilliant.

The hobbit smiled and wrung his hands in modesty "Why, thank you. I decided to get you out of the dungeons because nobody deserves to rot down there, much less with the treatment you were induring" and he blushed deeply.

"Oh, that!" She exclaimed, smiling back. "The fact is that ... well, never mind. I'm glad you trust me, I hope you won’t regret it. My name is Selene, by the way, and I hope we can be friends or that at least I could help you in any way. "  
"You're a woman" uttered the hobbit, earning a sarcastic chuckle."Maybe you can explain me why .... Nope, forget it, I'm sorry."

"Oh, come on." the Huntress insisted. "You can trust me, I said I wanted you to be my friend. And friends listen"

"Okay. Say that you fancy someone ... I don’t know, just a person that you find appealing. You think he is unattainable, but suddenly strange things start to happen, he hugs you, smiles at you when he talks and he is suddenly kind to you. Just why? Had he noticed my feeling, and is he trying to make fun of me? "

"See, Bilbo. I cannot tell you for sure with so few clues; I don’t know the person you're talking about. But I do not believe in any case he would make fun of you. Maybe he’s just trying to be nice, or maybe there is more. Only time would tell, I'm afraid. But you have my support, love is a wonderful thing, I guess, "the last words hang in the air.

"Guess? You have never been in love?" Asked the astonished hobbit. "You're a beautiful woman; you surely have had many suitors."

"No, Bilbo" she said, grimly. "My race is a bit different. We have no problems with sexual intercourse, but many of us never find affection in another being. Perhaps it is because of our way of life or that we are not worthy of love, I do not know. It is hard to say."

"I'm sorry I have asked." Bilbo said ruefully. "Let’s talk about something else. We will need weapons, when we reach Lake City ".

"Yes, for sure. Maybe we can talk to our bargeman to help us with this problem. What was his name again?"

“Bard” Bilbo answered. “His name is Bard”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my lovely readers: First of all, thank you! Secondly, next chapters will involve more dialogues and less descriptions. Let me know if the rythm pleases you, or if I'm being too dense.


	16. Bathing delights

The reception at Lake Town was not at all what an exiled prince deserved. Unless royals traveled nowadays in barrels full of fish and spent their time visiting the city gutters. In any case, exhausted and smelly, all dwarves settled down as they could at Bard the bargeman’s house. The poor hobbit suffered the most with his current predicament, although he had already gotten used to the lack of cleanliness involving life outdoors, he found his smelly tangled hair and ragged clothes particularly humiliating. The Huntress quickly realized the discomfort of the little fellow, and one day while the dwarves were snoring after lunch, he took him aside and said:

"Mister Hobbit, I found a place that perhaps you would like to visit with me. However, we must be silent and not tell anyone, or they wouldn’t let us go out for something so trivial.”

Bilbo stood silently, took his coat and put his hood up. Together they left the precarious construction that served as shelter for the bargeman’s family. They hadn’t to walk far, as the Huntress stopped opposite a door with a promising cloud of steam coming out of it.

"A bathhouse!" The hobbit almost cried with joy. "I can’t believe it! How do you know ...? "

"Forget it, Bilbo" she said casually, "I wanted to come and I could use some company. Besides, at this time it is virtually empty."

"Oh, let's get into it before anyone realizes our presence."

They entered the establishment, and they went to areas separated by each gender, although there was a common room down the hall. "I'll see you there in a while, Bilbo" the woman said.

After all the fatigue and the dirt have been well washed away, she proceeded to remove the tangles in her curls, she hadn’t combed her hair at all since she entered Mirkwood. As she was absently combing it, she kept thinking of glacial blue eyes, and how they became darker as the deepest pools in the throes of passion. For a moment, she thought of coming back and asking for mercy, but she also knew that she wouldn’t get none. The step ahead she had taken was too important, and there was something about her that the elf did not know. If he knew, he would only look at her with disgust and contempt. With those sad thoughts and a heavy heart, she were waiting for his little friend to come.  
He appeared soon, struggling with his wet hair that had grown considerably since he left home, and fell in disarray over his eyes. She smiled at the sight with some tenderness and offered: "Come here, my friend. Maybe I can help you with that…."

She grabbed her comb and untangled the better she could the knots in the hobbit’s beautiful golden hair.

"You have a wonderful wavy hair. And those shiny locks, damn it!" she sighed. "I would kill for them, Bilbo, you must be proud".  
She proceeded to part his hair in two, she made two small braids on each side, uniting them behind the hobbit’s head, in a way that bounded his waves and removed them from his face. At one point, the little fellow flushed.

"Bilbo, what is it?"

"It’s nothing, really. I was thinking that ... ahem ... that the dwarves would like my long hair ... I wonder if ..." he stammered embarrassed.

The Huntress could not suppress a laughter. He was so cute. It was just what she needed to release the weight that burdened her chest.

"Oh, yes, Bilbo. I am sure that this new hairstyle of yours will attract some attention. In particular, of certain blue-eyed dwarf, I dare say." She chuckled.

"Do not mock me, please, my lady. It is humiliating to feel like that, and more so if you thing about the enormity of our task ahead…" he muttered.

"No, no, my friend. Do not get me wrong, my laughter is purely from joy. I think it's wonderful for you to have these feelings and I really hope they will be returned. In any case, you should not feel bad, you are a member of this Company and you've proven it countless times. The dwarf who doesn’t see that is either blind or stupid. And your dwarves do not seem it to me."

"Come, sir Hobbit, lighten your heart and let’s see if our friends like your new look" finished the Huntress, passing a hand over his shoulder.

So they put their clothes back and returned to the house, where the dwarves had just lifted from their slumber. Some of them cast a curious glance at the Huntress’ wet curls and semi-unbuttoned shirt to dry properly, but the attention point was Bilbo, and in particular the hobbit’s newly braided golden locks.

"Well, well, Master Burglar" Kili chucked "it seems that our ways are sticking to you after all. You look fine with those braids of yours, but they are too simple. Any dwarf "and then he glanced briefly at his uncle "would have done it better."

Blushing as the Gamge’s best tomatoes, the hobbit said: "It is a merely practical, my hair fell over my eyes, but perhaps I should cut it."

"'No!" An appalled cry sounded from where Thorin was "Why would you want to dishonor yourself so, Mr. Baggins? Moreover, ehem, braids suits you well."

"There is no shame on it, hobbits cut their hair regularly and often wear it short, as I have read" said smart Ori.

"Ah, well. But he is among dwarves, now. "A growling Thorin replied.

After this revealing discussion, the Huntress was sure of all she needed to know. She wondered when the two fools would notice. However, the arrival of Bard with an array of rudimentary spades and axes changed her line of thought.

"Is this all?" Dwalin angrily said "These weapons are useless"

"We will do what we could and get what is available. You are a warrior, suit yourself. Thanks for your help, Bard" the Huntress replied dryly.

"No, it is not worth to us. Not to conquer a mountain, I am afraid." The king refuted. "We have to find better ones."

"Only the governor has weapons that deserved the name. But his armory is tightly guarded." The bargeman answered. "You would not be able to enter unnoticed."

"If they don’t see us…" Dwalin objected. "We will attack at night."

A simple plan. It might work, although it is likely to end up in another dungeon, she thought. And this time the visit will not be as pleasant as the previous one, reflected the Huntress with a shudder.


	17. The Governor's threat

Then, they set out towards the armory, large and small shadows lingering the city walls. They arrived and seen that it was guarded by a large guard unit, as Bard had explained. He had categorically refused to accompany them. "I have a family," he told them.

They approached one of the small windows in the side of the building and proceeded to unhinge the bars that protected it, and one by one, four dwarves slipped into the room above. The Huntress expected nobody to find them in the wrong place, or likely they would all finish deep down the lake. Everything went as planned, and Nori had come out with the first bundle of weapons under his arm. Bofur was about to drop off the window, when they heard a metallic sound echoing in the night. The dwarves looked at each other with despair, and began urging the two brothers, Fili and Kili, to leave the building quickly. Unfortunately, the governor’s guards were much faster, and they were surrounded by the time Fili jumped to the ground, leaving Kili helpless standing on the windowsill.

"Look! what we have here," said one of the guards. "Thieves, dwarven thieves. Funny, perhaps the governor wants to talk with them."

"We won’t go with you" said Thorin, strengthening both feet on the ground and unsheating Orcrist with a threatening gesture.

"Are you sure? Maybe I can help you to change your mind. " the captain said. "Shoot the dwarf." He ordered his guards.

Arrows flew fast to Kili, who was half out of the building and targeted his left leg and standed between his ribs.

"Nooooo! Kili!!" Cried both his dwarven relatives. The young dwarf swing inexorably, and he was falling, risking to break his neck against the stone floor. The Huntress, with an incredibly speed and ignoring the arrows still flying and the swords that threatened her, placed herself under the wounded dwarf and stopped his fall on time, with a barely concealed sigh of relief.

"Enough. Lest you’ll follow the same fate as him " said the man dispassionately.

The dwarves allowed to disarm, still traumatized by the fall of Kili and surrounded his unconscious body, watching the blood flowing from his wounds with increasing horror. Too much blood, reflected the Huntress. If we do not put out the arrows quick, he would not survive. The guards pushed unceremoniously them to the nearby Governor's Palace, where a group of citizens were celebrating a meeting with the lord of the city. Upon the prisoners arrival, leaving a trail of red fluids behind, the Governor raised an eyebrow.

"What a strange band of thieves you bring me here," he said "Dwarven cowards from the Hills so poor they have to steal their own weapons"

"Be careful of what you speak," Replied an angry hobbit, pointing his finger to him, "This one here is Thorin Oakenshield son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. And he is not a pauper nor a coward."

A shocked murmur ran through the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle, and comments about the prophecy, the arrival of a new dwarven king and the wealth he would bring to the city could be heard anywhere. Taking this opportunity, Thorin said:

"My arrival can bring a new age of prosperity to Lake Town. We will trade with you and all routes will be re-opened. Everyone will want the crafts from the great kingdom of Erebor. There is gold enough for everyone into the Montain, if you help us to arm ourselves and to get there. What do you say?"

At the word “gold” the Governor’s eyes lit up with a greedy glow and he said:

"To that I answer, Thorin, King Under the Mountain: Welcome to the City. How can we help you?"

"We are in a hurry. We need weapons, supplies and a boat that will bring us to the opposite bank as soon as possible. Also, my sister-son should stay here to have his wounds tended and someone must stay with him."

"I'll do it" the Huntress offered "I have some healing abilities, I know some herbs that can help him."

"You have my eternal gratitude if you can save my nephew." I said Thorin. "When he will be able, follow us to the mountain, where you will have a welcome worthy of kings."

With all things settled, the dwarves withdrew to talk and dine with the Governor while the Huntress took the wounded back to Bard’s house. She remained awake all night, trying to extract the arrows with the least damage. Apparently, they had not reached any organ, but the bleeding was profuse, and the dwarf was very weak, and a high fever stroke him. Desperate, the Huntress did not manage to break the fever, as she knew it was very dangerous to a weakened body as Kili’s.

The next day, she absented for a while to say goodbye to the Company, which departed to Erebor, when she spotted a well-known redhead through the crowd. Slowly, she approached this person from behind, and putting a knife in her ribs, she murmured:

"So you have followed me, Captain. What are your king’s orders? To take me back to his dungeons bounded in chains and kicking? Or must you kill me right here?"

"No." said the elf. "I must watch you, nothing more. I would not have accepted the mission if it had been otherwise." The way she said it made her think the warrior was more aware of his relationship with Thranduil that her face betrayed, and she did not like it one bit.

"Well ... maybe you can help me, after all, Tauriel." The Huntress told her quietly "I have a friend with a fever that doesn’t break, and he is very weak."

"Okay. Lead the way." the other redhead answered.

From that moment on, things went at a strange speed for the Huntress, like in a dream. The she-elf managed to stabilize Kili, but she took it personally to achieve his complete recovery, and she spent long hours at his bedside, talking about Eru knew what with the young dwarf. The Huntress felt a pang on her heart when she realized it, the youthful carefreeness that knew nothing of prejudices about race or status.

Meanwhile the days passed and a sense of danger gripped the woman heart, so she urged Kili to leave though he had not fully recovered. Tauriel accompanied them in the boat and she said goodbye to them on the shore with lots of regret and sadness, but when she was about to return to Laketown, a sudden wind and a flash sent her back to the ground. The three watched with horror the dragon, Smaug, inexorably approaching the houses, breathing fire, terror and destruction among those that few hours ago had provided them shelter.

Unable to withstand the spectacle, the she-elf returned to try to help the people remaining, and to warn her king to the new terror that had awakened. He would not be happy when he found out that the dwarves had finally woken up another Great Worm, especially considering his own pass. Unfortunately for her, a piece of her heart would forever remain hanging off the young dwarf’s hands who had spoken to her as an equal. Kili watched her go with a heavy sadness, knowing it could be otherwise. Then, he turned his eyes to the great gates of Erebor, he thought of his family, of his brother and his king, and he took a step toward them.

The Huntress followed him, but she could not to erase the memory of the fire and the the cries. However, she had the impression that something important had happened. It seemed that the dragon had not returned to the Mountain after the destruction he had sown, perhaps he fled to other places. It mattered little; in the end, she could not stop it. Anyway, she had kept her promise. She got all Durins, more or less unharmed, to Erebor, and it was a matter of time for the renowned Dwarf kingdom to regain its former glory. Oh, how wrong she was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, I am not very happy with this chapter, but I feel I am not capable of writing chaos and destruction, so I make them watch it from afar. If you don't like it, please comment!


	18. The Halls of Erebor

The massive door of the Lonely Mountain was impressive; a tribute to the dwarven craftsmanship and engineering, but it appeared very different to the two individuals who came, like a raft after a shipwreck, after watching from afar the horrors the dragon unleashed in Lake City. They approached the entrance afraid of what they could also found there, but at the same time they were also optimistic, thinking all that desolation must have some good part, hoping to find their mates waiting at the door with shouts of joy.  
However, the torches were lit, but no one came to welcome them. They entered the black corridors of the mountain with a heavy heart, both overwhelmed by a premonition. Not wanting to give on to discouragement, they called for their friends in the main halls and between the pillars, until they saw a dim light in the lower rooms. Suddenly, all their fears vanished when they heard a sweet but hesitant voice who answered them:

"Kili? Kili, it's you? ... Huntress? Um, Selene ?.... Are you there? "

"Of course we are, silly hobbit" she said, relieved. "Who would it be? What? Why this cold reception? Where are the others? "

Bilbo looked deeply uncomfortable when she mentioned the rest of the Company, and he jumped nervously from one foot to the other, wringing his hands.

"The fact is… they're all down, in the Treasury room" he muttered "They have not gone away since ... Wait, Kili, wait!" he yelled, trying to stop the youngest Durin, who departed like an arrow shouting "Fili! Fili! Uncle! I'm here!"

"Bilbo? You have to tell me right now what happens." She inquired, very concerned.

"They've changed." Hobbit murmured, burying his face in his hands. "By Yavanna, they have changed so much! And they are not the same dwarves who sat at my table in Hobbiton. They just think about the gold, to find the brightest gems, the largest chains, the most spectacular ornaments. In addition, the worst ... "

"The worst?" The Huntress was frightened "Is there anything worse?"

"Yes. The worst is Thorin. He doesn’t want to leave there. He’s not eating, not sleeping, not resting." The hobbit answered in despair. " Smaug warned me ..."

"Wait a minute. Smaug, you said? Smaug? Bilbo, my dear friend ... have you talked to a bloody dragon? And what exactly he told you about? "

"He said Thorin would give out everything, that he would get mad even to forget those of his blood, just to find the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. You know of it?" He inquired tentatively.

"Yes, Bilbo. I know what it means. It is the King’s jewel, which attested his right to rule over other clans. It is his birthright."

"Smaug told me it would bring him only madness and the truth is that it is already going on, even without finding it. I hate to think what would happen if he will have this stone in his power. "

"I do not like your last sentence at all, dear friend. But if someone finds the Arkenstone, I think he would do well keeping it out of reach. Well, in any case I want to see them all. Take me to the king, if it is not too much trouble for you."

Crestfallen, the hobbit gestured with his hand and led her to a large room in which obscene amounts of gold and precious objects remained, and on top of them, moving around like little ants, was the proud old dwarven Company, ornamented with the best pieces, but with a faraway look in their eyes that had lost all rationality. They kept muttering, and they seemed to look for something. The Huntress had his answer when from the old Thror’s throne, a voice boomed:

"Look for it. It has to be there. There will be no rest until we find it, and the halls of Erebor will regain their former glory."

"Ah, Mr. Baggins, I see you bring us help. You have returned my nephew to me, Huntress, and for that I am grateful. But now we have greater things to do."

Thorin Oakenshield had the Raven Crown on, and his new armor gleamed in the torchlight, but his gaze was far from being the one to which she was used. It was hard, closed and full of greed, and it was pointed only to the mountains of gold around him. Next to her, the hobbit became smaller if possible, his head sunk between his shoulders, and he shook his head in deep sorrow.

"We will do as you say, Your Majesty," he replied.

The two friends set about pretending they were looking through the piles, as they talked in whispers. Bilbo asked the Huntress what had happened to the inhabitants of Laketown, and when she answered him, her eyes told the horror she has witnessed. Suddenly, Bilbo said:

"None of them has cared. Everyone was so busy counting the piles of coins when the dragon came out. I fear that the blame for all the destruction lies on my shoulders, and I can never forgive myself. All those people died because of me, I was not able to hide the dragon where I came from…" he cried.

"No, Bilbo. You should not say that. Sooner or later, the dragon will be awakened, and the place he went is irrelevant. He carries fire and death with him everywhere. In addition, Thorin promised to give some of his treasure to the citizens in exchange for their help, do not worry." she answered her friend.

"Oh, are you sure about that? Do you think the new king, in his current state of mind, will get rid of anything? I do not think so... "

"But it's his decision. You cannot blame yourself for it. I am sure if you could do something for them you would." She insistently said.

"Maybe I can, maybe I can" the hobbit mumbled, pressing a hand to his chest.

The night fell on them sooner than they expected, and the Huntress, stifled by the oppressive presence of evil even in the heart of the Mountain, could not sleep. Meanwhile she reflected how, despite having honored her promise, it eventually turned against them. The Valar were cruel. The lineage of Durin would never be safe, not while that thrice-damned gold surrounded them and the greed whispered in their ears. Although the dragon was right when he spoke to Bilbo. A truth from a dragon, where Middle-Earth was going, she thought. Though nothing stranger than a dying dragon, she supposed.

When she was thinking about the hobbit, and as if she had called him, she saw his shadow passing to the ramparts. She sensed he wanted to flee, and she let him go. Perhaps it was just as well, perhaps by having his soul mate out of reach, the king would regain some of his sanity at least.

Oh, how wrong she was again. Morning came, and they discovered that Bilbo had left, but the cries of rage and despair of the Company could not rival with the threats of death uttered by the King Under the Mountain, riling and braying against the hobbit.

"Maybe he went to seek the advice of Gandalf the Grey" she ventured to justify his friend."And he will return with good news"

On the contrary, this seemed to stir the king’s rage even more, who spat the words like they were poison:

"Let him go. He is a traitor. Let him go to his wizard if he want. I do not need him at all."

"Of course, your Majesty." Balin and Dwalin bowed.


	19. War is upon you

Meanwhile, the survivors from Laketown had reached the old town of Dale, leaded by the newly appointed Dragon Slayer, Bard, their former bargeman. The situation overwhelmed him on all areas. He carried his neighbors to a new place to live and he had taken over tasks he wasn’t fitted to, in the absence -or death, if the Valar were merciful- of that filthy Governor.

As if it was not enough, after a sleepless night overwhelmed by his new responsibility, he was now face to face with the neighboring Mirkwood monarch, commanding an army of forest elves. Horrified, he thought that they would attack them, and he headed fast for the forefront, where he stood arrogant among his soldiers perched on a monstrous mount, a deer with large antlers

"May I ask, Your Highness, what my people have done to upset you, and that you feel the need to come armed at our door?" He consulted with caution, since the reputation of Thranduil’s wrath was as legendary as his skills as a warrior.

"I'm here for matters that concern only myself, Bard the bowman, so the survival of the human race doesn’t matter to me. On the other hand, what worries me is what lies -or rather, _who_ lies- behind Erebor doors. The heritage of my people have been taken from us, and I will have it back. "

"Of course, my lord, I understand it” Bard replied dryly. "But surely you'll not attack the gates without talking to the assailants and see if you can reach an understanding."

"You want to speak reason with Thorin Oakenshield? Good luck with that. The last time I offered my help he threw it in my face, and he left with something that was _mine_. " The elf sneered.

In fact, Thranduil did not develop what was that Thorin had taken from his kingdom, but his dreams were poisoned by need and jealousy since she parted with the dwarven company. Knowing that they had succeeded, that she was there, out of reach, was only fueling his anger.

While the elf king inspected his army, Bard decided to try to reason with the dwarf king in order to avoid the impending war. After several hours, he returned crestfallen and defeated to the elf lord’s tent.

"What? Have he accepted your terms, bowman?" Thranduil commented dispassionately.

"No. This is crazy. A real madness. We do not ask for even a fraction of what he have now, but he is not willing to part with a single coin, as he told me. The war is inevitable, I'm afraid. There is no way he’ll change his mind. " the discouraged man murmured.

"So it’s your turn to choose your side, Bard. And choose it soon. In a few hours we’ll leave to the gates" said the elf, taking his swords from the table and carefully placing them in their scabbard, not without a shiver of anticipation.

Warned by Bofur and Nori, who were on guard, all the Company watched from the ramparts the elven and men armies meeting at the front gate. At their head, mounted on his impressive deer, Thranduil smiled grimly and his head tilted to say something to the leader of men, no one but the archer who had killed Smaug.

However, the Elvenking’s smug smile faded when a rope appeared out of nowhere and an oddly agile figure tied to it went down quickly to stand between them and the door. He was wearing a dwarven helmet that did not expose his features and mismatched pieces of armor covered his body. Two swords were crossed at his back, attached by a leather harness, and he carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. He was a warrior, not a peace emissary.

"What business bring the elven people to the gates of Erebor?" He asked with a metallic sound, since his visor was down. Nobody recognized the voice but one of the attendant recognized easily the body language. The king was pale as if he had seen a ghost.

"Our issues does not concern you, stranger," Bard said. "As we come to reclaim what is ours by right."

"The King Under the Mountain will not bow to the wishes of men" Replied the emissary. "Neither to those of elves. And even less to this _particular_ elf " he pointed. "Withdraw your forces if you don’t want to be defeated."

"You mean to beat us? With what forces? Thirteen dwarves and a fugitive? Do not make me laugh" It seemed the Elvenking had recovered from his shock.

From the depths of the helmet a melodious laugh emerged that sounded like brass bells ringing on the esplanade. The elf turned another shade of white and threw his body back, as if he had been beaten.

"You have forgotten many things, oh mighty king, if you don’t hear what the forest have to say. Perhaps you will like to try it now. " the enigmatic character replied, and he raised his arms to the North. Immediately, two crows perched on them, and a distant sound greeted him.

"The war is upon you, children of men." He told Bard. "Perhaps you would do better rethinking your alliances."

"I will not. I have only one word, and I have given it. And unlike your king, I will keep my promises " Was his answer.

"Okay, it's fair. But _he_ is not my king. _My Lord_ is coming now ... " the soldier muttered, looking down. The crows took flight and he followed his path to the top of the hill where the wind in the trees had already told him what he wanted to know.

Raising his head again, he began to run, crossing the astonished elven ranks. A wave of his livid lord hand stopped them from firing their weapons to him. When he arrived at the hillside, yet within reach of their arrows, he took off his helmet, and a torrent of red curls fell over her shoulders.

"Khazad ai-menu !! The Iron Hills are coming. " She shouted, and drew one of her swords in greeting. From the battlements of Erebor, the Company answered with shouts of "Khazâd !! Khazâd !! Baruk- Khazâd !! "

At the same time these voices echoed, battle horn sounded on the surrounding hill. From the top several dwarven battalions rushed in perfect formation, with a particularly big redhead leader, riding a big warpig sporting several pieces of armor.

"Oh, this is rich. " Thranduil asserted, making his deer spin around "the charming Dain Ironfoot."

"Who?" The man absently asked, while urging his horse to reach the elven mount.

"Dain, lord of the Iron Hills, one of the most stubborn dwarves walking on Middle-earth. Cousin of the other one, Oakenshield. What a lovely family meeting... "the elf snarled, not knowing the full extend of said “family gathering” concept. The dwarf who stood at the head of the troops, seeing the woman who waited with her sword raised, dismounted quickly to take her in a close hug. His temples briefly rested on hers, whose face become red as a tomato all of a sudden.

"Adad, please, I'm not a child anymore!" The Huntress protested weakly.

"Nonsense, you'll always be a little girl to me. I see you've taken good care of those of my blood, as you promised me. By the way, you're too thin, dear. Your mother is going to gutter me." answered Dain proudly.

"Amad? She did not come with you, right?" She asked apprehensively.

"No! Do you think she would abandoned her post? Anyway, I guess that she would have ripped my cousin’s his head off for putting you in danger, and with a dragon no less. No, I would not give a coin for the life of the new King Under the Mountain if your beloved _amad_ would have come here, " the dwarf laughed.

Once this exchange finished, the dwarf stood and climbed back in the saddle. Addressing the elven army, he bellowed: "Good morning, gentlemen! How are we faring on this beautiful day? Could I steal a little of your time, since you have had the courtesy to come and meet me? "And then he nodded towards the woman. "Are ye kindly, if you do not mind, to let me pass?"

Before this last growl, the men fell back slightly, and the dwarves placed themselves in a battle line. Thranduil merely raised his hand, and his soldiers took their bows and armed them, pointing them towards their leader.

"Ah, but look who's here, that Mirkwood pompous overgrown fairy. Must you go to comb your hair or something, princess?" Shouted Dain, ignoring the threat posed by the elven archers. Meanwhile, the Huntress had drawn his own bow and defended the dwarf’s side.

With a look of quick understanding, Thranduil headed for a direct blow to the pride of his antagonist. "Princess? No, I rather thought it was _your_ _princess_ shouting under me the last time she went through my forest."

‘By Mahal’s beard' she thought. 'He didn’t suggested what I think he was suggesting, in front of three bloody armies, and with the king of Erebor listening. I'm done. Thorin will kill me.'

In the rearguard, located next to Gandalf, to whom he had given the Arkenstone, in order to put it out of reach of his still beloved Thorin, Bilbo Baggins gave a cry of surprise and covered his mouth with his hands. He recognized now the long golden mane of the anonymous guardian. Oh, Yavanna, her friend was utterly lost. Thorin would cut off her head or throw her out of the walls, as he had threatened him. Above him, dwarves have turned pale in rage at in the ramparts, and Thorin shouted: "Traitor !!". The Company, however, looked with wide eyes the scene unfolding below them. Dain Ironfoot could not, he _must not_ let an insult like that to someone of his blood went unnoticed. However, the dwarf lord was very aware of the rules that his daughter and her race kept. He had lived with his mother from longer than he could remember, and he knew just how free their affections were. He decided to play the elf game, but with the winning cards, of course.

"Ummm is that true, nathith?" He asked the woman in a loud voice for all to hear, but exchanged a conspiratorial wink with her.

"I fear it’s true, adad. Although I might not to have been _the one_ to scream the _highest_ " she joked.

"Ah, that leads us to the next question, nathith ... How is it that a Sindar, the finest flower of the Eldar race, the Black Forest mighty Elvenking, will even think about bedding someone with dwarven blood? Nonsense! What a disgrace! " retorted Dain.

"You speak true again. There is only wisdom in your words, _my king_." She replied, with a particular emphasis on the last two words.

A wounded animal roar arose from the depths of the Elvenking’s throat. He felt humiliated in front of his own army, and was receiving increased the damage he was trying to convey with his earlier words. Sensing the imminent assault, the Huntress dropped his bow and drew her two swords, while Dain urged his troops to arms, shouting "Du Bekar".  
However, the clash between the three armies never came. A tremor shook the earth, and several holes opened on the surrounding hills, which threw up an entire orc army, followed by cave trolls armed to the teeth. The host of Azog the Defiler had arrived.


	20. The battlefield

Everything thereafter became a huge maelstrom of blows, screams, blood and sweat. The elven army saw reason at the end and fought side by side with men and dwarves. The Huntress could not tell the whole picture, since the enemy lines were close enough to her and she did nothing but torn limbs, split heads, cut tendons, hit everything she could and all this dodging all kinds of weapons. At one point, she thought she saw Dain charging a troll with his battle pig, but she could be wrong. What she could clearly state was that at some time, she did not know whether they had been hours or minutes, the Erebor bells rang, and they crashed down the parapet the dwarves themselves had prepared. From the rubble they emerged in a triangular formation, and they washed away the armies of orcs as a wild river carried the willows on the banks when it overflew.

She was shortly pleased by this unexpected change of events, but she had to concentrate on her own fight, if she wanted to stay alive. She went to Dale, intending to protect those weaker in battle, and the image she saw did not give her much hope. However, as she wandered through the streets painted with the blood of many men, she noticed a silver lightning near a huge corpse. The Elvenking’s war deer had been killed, causing the fall of his master in turn, who was surrounded by orc scum. In addition, some archers had their bows pointed at him, and he seemed to have no way out, although the wild joy dancing in his elven eyes seemed to tell everyone otherwise.

Quietly, the Huntress approached the circle of archers who threatened him from behind, and proceeded to slice their neck with her sword as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, their fellows encircled the monarch who blocked their blows, killing many of them, but there were too many of them. She recalled the hate in his eyes when he had looked at her a few hours before, but also the passion that had burnt them both not so long ago, and she made her decision. Without hesitation, she made her way into the circle surrounding the king, giving all she had. The Elvenking watched in awe how her double swords cut orc flesh like butter, with the same movements that had bewitched him hopelessly, regardless of her ancestors and even her race. He saw only her marble white skin and her curls waving in the wind, like a vision who pulled him from the horror, and provided him an escape route.

For a while, his gaze hanged on hers, losing his facade and showing an almost vulnerable stare. She had just saved his life, and that was more than the Elvenking’s pride could take. He still wanted her, even after knowing the truth about her origins, but he also knew that she would never accept him. With this last thought, his moment of vulnerability passed, and he was the Mirkwood king again. Thranduil stood up, his mask in place, he sneered and walked toward his soldiers, leaving a blood-soaked Huntress in the middle of a circle of corpses.

But as she watched him go, one of the orcs who were lying on the ground got up and drew his axe, embedding it in her arm, before she beheaded him with her second sword. Hissing, she pulled out the weapon and looked at the severity of the wound. Without wasting a moment, she made a quick tourniquet with her shirtsleeve and went on. She suddenly noticed some dwarven riders heading to Raven Hill. 'May Mahal guide your steps, Durin’s sons' she thought. 'And when you will be leaded to safety, maybe he will lend a hand down here too, we're going to need it' and she spun and proceeded to decapitate another of those nasty creatures. And so she went on and on until she could see nothing but blood, enemies and pain.

Sometime later, the battle was over, but there had been too much blood spilled. Dwarves, elves and men paved the battlefield with their bodies, and the wounded crawled for help. The cacophony of screams and moans could drive anyone crazy, but in the midst of all this mayhem, some of them stood searching for a particular point, Raven Hill. Thorin.

Among them, some strange pair with the same hair color. The woman, tall and proud, holding her arm, which had a huge slashing wound that flooded with blood. The dwarf, smaller but no less proud, had lost his helmet wearing a visible blow to the head and he had the whole body covered with black blood. The metal of his leg was dented in several places, and he was limping visibly.

"The eagles have arrived." She repeated. "Do you think they will arrive in time, adad?"

"I hope so, for the sake of our race, nathith. I truly hope so."

Without a noise or a groan, she fell unconscious, unable to bear the blood loss. Similarly, the dwarf noticed his vision blurring, affected by the hard blow to his skull, but his last thought was 'Pray Mahal we get through this. If not, her mother will kill me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my reddition of the Battle of the Five Armies. You will notice I did not go through Raven Hill. I cried for so long when I saw the film, I would not repeat the scene in my head ever again. And I fixed it, of course. Nobody wants a dead Durin.


	21. Some stories

The Battle of the Five Armies, they called it. The land burned by Smaug had been irrigated with blood and bodies were everywhere. Nothing would grow there for generations. The survivors wandered like ghosts through the battle remains, but a whisper of hope ran through their ranks. Rumor had it that the King Under the Mountain, which had finally overcame his gold sickness to lead a blunt attack, wouldn’t pay the highest price for his mistakes after all. He had survived with awful injuries and somewhere between the healing tents, he struggled not leave the world of the living plagued by fever and infection. His heirs had no better luck, and they both hadn’t wake up already. No one knew if they would do so, nor was very optimistic about it. The Huntress was also worse for wear, the fever consumed her and her screams could be heard from one side to another of the camp. Her dreams were haunted by hallucinations, and her wound was infected. The Mirkwood king was visiting his wounded subjects when he heard her screams, and suddenly he would take no more, and left abruptly. Hours later, an elven healer was sent to her tent, but even in her delirium, she urged him to tend Thorin’s sister-sons before her, less she would not accept being treated. Cursing her stubbornness, and unsure about whether he would arrive in time to save them all, the elven healer brought the brothers back to the land of the living. Although healing their wounds would be an strenuous task, at least they were awake. Immediately after the elf managed to sew the two ends of the gruesome wound in the woman arm, caused by the serrated edge of the orcish axe. The scar will be a painful remaining, but it seemed that there would be no muscle damage.

Anyway, days passed by and many people sent help to the survivors. Men led supply wagons for the Lake Town survivors and dwarves marched in caravans from the Blue Hills and the Iron ones. Although Mirkwood elves moved away their wounded to their forest and the Galadhrim gave no sign of life, from the distant lands of Imladris, a contingent arrived one morning at the gates of Erebor, delighting all those who crossed their path

At the head was none other than Lord Elrond himself with his wise gray eyes, surrounded by two characters that could only be his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, dressed in the same way and with the same wicked smile that heralded mischief. They were accompanied by a small detachment of guards, and closing the convoy was the character that made all heads turn. It was the legendary head of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel the Balrog-Slayer. All the camp was silent, as if they walked in a dream, until Gandalf approached the delegation, and bowing his head, he said:

"Your arrival is most timely, Peredhel. We need urgently your best healing arts. There are many warriors seriously injured, and one of the worst is the King Under the Mountain."

"Well, let's not waste time in polite exchanges, Mithrandir, and take me to him," Replied the elf with worried eyes.

The twins stood forgotten in the middle of the camp, while Glorfindel and his guards were looking for a place for their horses. A figure walking carrying a bucket of water with her head lowed and her arm wrapped in bandages that smelled suspiciously hit them in her haste. Without looking up, she chastised them.

"My apologies, gentlemen, but perhaps your lordships have better things to do than to stand here in the midst of the healing camp. We poor peasants apparently have work to do, and you are obstructing the supplies route. Perhaps your king is the perfect epitome of a flower vase, but maybe you could be a little less useless and ought to help a little, I think."

"Thranduil Oropherion described as the incarnation of a flower vase? By the Valar, brother, all these centuries and we have not guessed that one ... " they said to each other, trying to hold their laughter.

"How right you are, Elladan. I see that our stay here, among people so versed in words, will be much more interesting than we thought." replied his brother.

At these words, the woman looked up and was surprised to find the sons of Elrond watching her with a hint of amusement on their faces and a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

"Oh, my sincere apologies. I did not know that the delegation of Imladris had already arrived." she quickly answered "Had I know, I would never dare to describe Thranduil as ... your king" she continued with a smile.

The two brothers’ laughter lasted for several minutes. When they calmed down, they took on the figure before them with watching her features renewed interest. She didn’t strike them as a Lake Town peasant, and her muscular figure was more of a warrior. She was visibly hurt, and very pale, however, she carried a weight that would have made any men with less willpower bent over. Last but not least, they both had detected her lashing tongue to be the source of great amusement in the future. Therefore, both had the same thought. As it happens to many twins, they had an almost telepathic understanding, and they looked to themselves to say ‘She is perfect for adar'

"And may we know the name of this fair lady we have the honor of speaking?" Elrohir asked.

"My name is Selene, but everyone here knows me as the Huntress. So if you insist to call me a lady, I will be forced to teach you a lesson or two." she replied.

"The Huntress?" Elladan exclaimed excitedly, almost jumping. "The same one that ... ummmm how to put it in polite word, made the haughty and mighty Mirkwood king bite the dust not once, but twice, first in the Black Forest and then in front of his own army, aided by her father, who happens to be that red-haired dwarf with that awful lack of manners?”

"The very same.” She said ashamed.

"Ah, but you are a legend, my dear. I cannot believe our luck, Elrohir. We must tell Glorfindel, he wouldn’t believe us." Replied the elf.

"Really?" She was astounded, to say the least. "I thought I was a character to avoid to all the Eldar race, in light of those events."

"But how wrong you are, my lad… Faron." Elrohir said. "In general, the Galadhrim and the Imladris elves deeply despise the peacock king. Someone who has been able to put him in his place, is something that fills us with joy. Not everyone has so many prejudices against other races as this Sindar. In fact, even his son is far more reasonable than him."

"You have meet Legolas? He's a good friend of mine, "she replied, glad. “Have you news from him? He fares well?"

"The truth is he came a few moons ago to Imladris with a mission and he will stay a while with us. We appreciate him a lot, and he usually bear good training sessions with Glorfindel, which is a plus, so he is less tough on us afterwards" Elladan replied cheerfully.

She stood pensively for a minute and said, "If you have nothing better to do, I think there are two of my patients who you must absolutely meet. Erebor will not know what hit them after your meeting, I guess."

"Of course!" The twins answered in unison. "Lead the way"

Leaving the bucket near its destination, the Huntress headed for a large tent, heavily guarded, from which some muffled laughter came out.

"You remember when Dwalin stepped in ... Hello, Selene!" waved one of the dwarves, who was currently lying in bed, his torso wrapped in bandages.

"Hello, Kili; Hi, Fili! How are you today? I want to introduce you to a very nice people, so try to be civil." Gesturing with her hand, she told the twins to enter. "Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond of Imladris. These are the princes of Erebor, Fili and Kili, sister-sons of the King Under the Mountain."

"At your service!" Said the four in unison. A second passed, and then the four looked at each other and exploded in laughter.

"I think you are going to match spectacularly." She said. "Try not to destroy anything, or if you do, try to not be discovered. And watch your stitches, Fili, or I swear I'll tell everything to your Amad in the next raven they send" and she left laughing at the scared face of the blond dwarf.

The dwarves spent several hours telling different stories to the children of Elrond, who were delighted at their display of both energy and mischievousness, until they decided that they could be a great addition for what they were planning moments before.

"... And pray tell us, my friends, that lovely lady who introduced us is the famous Huntress, is she not? Tell us more about her " said Elladan nonchalantly.

"Well… you see, the fact is that at first we were all a bit skeptical. She came from nowhere in the Mirkwood dungeons. Apparently, as a little sparrow told us later, she spent half her time there being very naughty –if you catch my meaning- with the Antlered king ... Of course I call him that because of his throne" Kili laughed. "Said elf has developed quite an obsession for our friend there. I won’t play shy, any male dwarf knows she is a sight to behold, and he had bedded her, the lucky bastard. She even saved his life during the battle. That was a turning point, I hope, he had not bother her since." the youngest dwarf summarized.

"However, we believe she is not happy." Fili replied. "We are afraid she will return to her old ways, as Kili said, she slept with him willingly. It is true that her race is more open about sex issues than us dwarves, it is not like he is her One, or something. But I think she needs someone who will treat her as she deserves not some elf with hormonal problems that wanders over a huge elk, like he had to compensate something."

The two brothers could not hold back the laughter at this malicious speech, but decided to inform the dwarves of his plan.

"Anyway ..." Elladan started. "That lead us to our thought precisely. Ada, that is, our father, need some kind of distraction. Since our mother sailed to Valinor, he is barely himself no more. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t train, no hunting, no swordfighting, he is not interested in throwing parties and the melancholy is haunting him. We know of his loss, and we love our mother, but we thought maybe Adar is lonely. He needs a bright and cheerful soul like your friend to turn him from carrying the weight of the world on his back."

"And your friend ..." continued Elrohir "is a warrior, as our father was, but she is also compassionated and willing to help. Furthermore, she is smart and cunning and her tongue is as sharp as those swords that she carries with herself."

"And you want to meddle with your father? Good luck with that, we tried that with our uncle and he caught us, of course .... But that leads me to why we should help you, and not try to settle her with some dwarf who has laid eyes on her-and believe me, there are many. Anyone who has seen her wielding a sword wants her.” Kili reasoned.

"Because at this precise moment, our father is spending all his energy and healing powers to prevent the King Under the Mountain to be a permanent host in the halls of Mandos, I guess." Elrohir dryly answered.

"Oh, man. I am deeply sorry, please do not misunderstand me. We do not have news from outside, they told us we must be resting" the dwarf muttered, embarrassed. "Of course, my lord Elrond gave us shelter when we cross his lands, and has made a long trip to help us. The least we can do is help him ... even if he is not aware" He finished.

"Excellent!" Elladan rejoiced, clapping like a child. "My friends, we have a lot to plan ..."


	22. Healing

The aforementioned woman had no clue to what they planned on her behalf, and she had returned to her duties. Except that for now, there was little for her to do. She had changed some bandages, she had cleaned, had carried buckets and cleaned towels, but she wasn’t needed no more. Her own wound would heal in a couple of days, and she was eager to resume her training sessions, because she suspected her arm to lost quite a bit of its former strength.

In short, she was bored, so she headed to the Iron Hills camp. Some dwarves glanced bitterly at her -everyone remembered the words exchanged before the battle- but they generally greeted her cheerfully. She went to her father’s tent, from which emerged a thunderous laughter. There were Dwalin and his father, both with their fill of beer, chatting and exchanging anecdotes. She sighed and, without even greet them, a poured herself a mug straight from the barrel and dropped herself on a pile of blankets.

"A hard day, nathith?" Dain commented, bowing slightly in his seat.

"No, rather a boring day. I need to behead some orcs, least I will bore myself to death" she replied. "Furthermore, the wounded are well kept, and the healers don’t have any alcohol in their tents."

"See, Dwalin? A fine drunken warrior she is, much like his father. But her taste for Elves Lords is definitely not my doing... " the dwarven lord joked. Dwalin turned suddenly an interesting shade of red, then paled and looked over his mug, waiting for her outburst. When nothing came, he shaked his shoulders with ill-concealed laughter and a when she answered few drops of beer were projected onto his uniform.

"Oh, I do not know, father dear. Perhaps it’s a hobby of mine. It could have been worse, I could have start embroidering or flute playing…"

All the camp was aware of the boisterous laughter that followed her statement. When she emerged from the tent, several hours later, all her worries were conveniently drowned in a sea of amber liquid that made her smile like a fool. Aware of her current status, she decided it was a good idea to clear her mind a bit and erase some alcohol next to the river. There, lying on a rock, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the last afternoon light, listening to the soothing sound of water. Suddenly, a shadow blocked the sun, a long and slender shade she knew very well, and she quickly opened her eyes.

"Peace, Faron. I did not expect to find you here" said the Elvenking in a strained voice.

"Nor did I, Thranduil. Maybe could you leave me be in my well-deserved rest, then? Go ahead and find someone to torment."

"Go ahead? Since when do you have the ability to tell me to leave? "The elf snarled menacingly, a with something strange hinting his words

She sat up and looked up to him, only to realize that he was in a similar state of intoxication, only his perfect facade hiding it better than her colored cheeks.

"Oh, Thranduil, ..." she muttered in a sorrowful tone.

Anger took over the elf at those last words. He wanted nothing from someone like her. He did not want her pity. She was dwarven breed, and she had humiliated him in any way possible, only to save his life afterward. She had dragged him outside his kingdom, where he was safe, only to witness the fall of so many of his warriors, the shedding of the immortal blood of his own subjects. They were not intended to die, as does this dwarven mortal filth. Abruptly, he lifted her by the shoulders and he forced her to look at his face.

"Don’t.Talk.to.Me. I do not want you, nor I need your pity, do you hear me? " He shouted to her face. She did not answer, just looked at him and took her hand to his face with a feather-like touch. Then, the sour Elvenking saw her as she really was, untamed and dangerous and yet full of warming and passion. Now, he got to know her smell, but he got her under his skin, and all the Ages in Middle-Earth could not remove her from his memories. Defeated, he dropped his hand and walked away with angry strides toward the tents of his army, intending to never cross paths with the Huntress again. He was wrong.

She sobered and with a deep sigh, she returned to the healing tents, where Oin worked tirelessly to have all them all back in shape as soon as possible. Erebor waited for his king, she mused. And, besides, it was about time to have that annoying bandage out, she decided.


	23. Back to basics

Days and weeks went on, and the health of the new King Under the Mountain improved under the watchful care of Lord Elrond, though he was still quite weak. Anyway, Erebor gates were opened and gradually all the dwarves who took part in the battle and some of the most renowned guests had moved into the Mountain. The dragon smell and his wrath was still painfully visible in some areas, but overall dwarven engineers quickly cleared the debris and made entire wings of the Mountain habitable, while they were busy repairing the remaining areas, as the Crown Hall.

Among the guests was, of course, Dain and his lords from the Iron Hills, but he tired very easily, and he intended to part as soon as possible. The Company had been given the best accommodations, but there was also the delegation of Rivendell, that was currently found in various states of boredom in the training pit rows. Glorfindel was beating his guards as usual, while Elladan and Elrohir waited for his fellow mischief-makers, Fili and Kili, to come and pick them to an expedition towards the mines, which were examined by skilled artisans in search for news seams of silver or gold.

However, they were interrupted by an unexpected sight. The Huntress was down to the training wooden posts area. She proceeded to unsheath her double swords almost reverently. She made a couple of experimental blows with her wounded arm, rotating her shoulder just to check her resistance. Apparently she was happy with the outcome, so she headed to one of the first massive logs that the recruits used as a target to improve their aim.

Gradually, all sounds from the elves died down, and all the weapons went down. They watched, mesmerized, how this strange creature was dancing around the post, attacking it from all angles, pulling sliver after sliver, just leaving nothing but a thin stick were a big log was, all this with her eyes closed. She was a sight to behold The twins watched in amazement from the stands how the soft leather of her pants clung to her thighs like a second skin. Moreover, the leather harness crossed on her chest made her white shirt to reveal _all_ her curves. Suddenly, one of the two gulped and said:

"Dear brother, are you sure you want to unleash this on our father? Perhaps it more than he can withstand, if you catch my meaning ... "

"Honestly, Elrohir, do not know. What I think is that I need a cold shower. Now. Let's get out of here or I won’t be accounted for my actions. "

With some more restrain than the two brothers’, the head of the House of the Golden Flower watched the Huntress deadly skills with the eyes of a warrior, more attracted to her technique than to her body. Clearly, she was efficient, fast and dangerous in battle. Even considering the wound on her arm wasn’t fully healed. One day he would ask her for a sparring session, just out of curiosity. He could not wait to see what she was made of.

Looking to his recruits, Glorfindel realized their stunned expressions and yelled: "No wonder you lot look like a fish out of water! Remove your jaws from the floor and go back to work! "

With a dazzling smile, the Huntress opened her eyes and nodded to the blond elf, without seeing the two conspirators who had just leave. Her own recruits had arrived, a small contingent of Hill dwarves she would instruct in using long spears, a weapon rarely drawn by this people, but highly effective in battle, especially against Wargs. So he took one of the training spears, and spiking it firmly on the floor, she jumped and turned nimbly around it to reach them, teaching them how to use the length of the weapon in their own advantage, with a soft but authoritative tone. Glorfindel shook his head and thought, 'That pair of ellon are playing with fire. Poor Elrond, he wouldn’t see it coming. This woman will be the death of him. I would not miss it for all the gems inside this Mountain. "  


*****  


The two brothers from the Last Homely House and the two brothers from Under the Mountain had a plan. Seeing the training session, they assumed the Huntress would have some kind of routine. Elladan took care to record down when and how often she trained.

Her day-to-day was simple, she liked to wake up early, she went to the battlements to let the morning breeze cleared her mind. Then she would have a light breakfast in the kitchens, where they worshiped her, and called her "Dain’s lass". Not that she was bothered. Afterwards, she will go down to her training before the spear-warriors arrived, and she went hard on them for several hours before she stopped. Then she would help in any task, from removing debris to carry plates to the kitchen.

Therefore, they found the perfect day. Fili spoke to Dwalin to ensure that her recruits did not appear to the training lessons, all were assigned to different tasks. Kili, with the help of four stunned dwarves, withdrew all the practice logs from the training area. They left nothing more than the sand.

Finally, Elrohir nonchalantly told his father he would not be able to train with his brother, as he had decided to approach Dale in the morning, but perhaps Elrond would be able to take his place. First, the elf lord asked Glorfindel to go with his son, but with a strange smile, he declined as he had a previous commitment with the Captain of the Guards, who was none other than Dwalin. Elrond decided that sparring with his son would not do him any harm. He hadn’t drew his sword in a long time, he was busy with his research, and it would be a pleasant break from the routine and would help him to unwind after so many days in the healing tents.

Therefore, the elf lord changed his usual robe for a pair of comfortable green pants and a tight jacket, his hair tied in a ponytail not to bother him. He took his sword and joined his son to the training area. Suddenly, said son made a strange gesture and exclaimed:

"Oh, I forgot my knives in my rooms, and I wanted to practice. Can you wait here while I search for them? It won’t be long."

"Of course, ion nin. Do not worry, I have nothing else to do this morning, "sighed the elf.

Elrohir left the room at a surprising speed, making his father slightly bewildered. He was _never_ in such a hurry. In any case, he went to the arena, empty at that early morning hour, and he drew his sword. He moved it over his head and slowly, his body remembered training routines he had held for more than an Age, making the steel an extension of his own body. He was so absorbed in his figures, that he did not realize he was no longer alone, the Huntress was studying him appreciatively from the doorway. It was hard to admit, but the swordplay of that elf was impressive. She could not see his face, but it would be surely one of the Balrog-Slayer best soldiers, to have reached that level of skills. Encouraged by the last thought, she said aloud:

"Impressive. Very impressive. If Imladris elves are so capable with a blade, I wonder why your home is called 'The Hidden Valley'. You wouldn’t need to hide if there is a fight, you will find yourselves unrivalled."

Without turning around, the elf replied softly: "The wish for peace does not mean we have not the means to defend ourselves, my lady."

"Of that I am sure. Your words are wise, mellon. But you’ll find I'm no lady, and I'm not even a captain indeed. My recruits have decided they have better things to do than their training, and they have left the entire field for you."

"My apologies, then. Perhaps I am invading your training area. I'll remove myself immediately "said the mysterious soldier.

"Do not bother yourself" She quickly answered "But perhaps you’ll consider sparring with me. Someone has taken away all my practice poles, and my swordsplay need improvement. The orcs are becoming increasingly rare in this area, and your technique is impeccable. It will be interesting.

"With a soft sound, the body of the elf turned around to where the voice came to see who had made such a bold statement, that he would politely refuse. But the words stuck in his throat as he watched her interlocutor. So this is the famous Huntress, he muttered to himself. Being the father of a beauty like Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar, he found nothing in common with the woman currently in front of him. She was slender and the curves of her body were nice, cladded in soft leather, with her fitting bodice. Her hair gave her a wild look, but her face was honest. Not a withstanding beauty in any way. He did not understand what Thranduil has seen. Well, the Elvenking was not one to restraint in his tastes, at least as far as fashion and wine were concerned, and it was probably the same with females.

With several long strides, almost feline, she arrived near the Elf Lord and surprisingly, nodded respectfully, making her red curls falling over her face.

"My sincerest apologies, hir Elrond. I did not recognize you. Please forgive my lack of manners and forgive my wayward ways. Please allow me to thank you for all you are doing for Erebor, and for the sake of their king."

Surprised, Elrond looked to her anew. Upon watching her double swords sticking out behind her shoulders, he took a quick decision "There is no need. And I will spar with you, if the offer still stands. "

"Of course," she replied, raising her head with a beaming smile. They were similar in height, and she held his gray gaze without a hint of fear. Sparks of malice or joy shone at her orbs, and for a brief moment, Elrond wondered if he had made the right decision.

With an eager gesture, and before he could regret it, the Huntress pulled back her hair from her face, tying it with a leather cord. She raised her arms above her head and reached to the swords hilts crossed behind her. She drew with a controlled stance, and it took the elf out his reverie. He took a defensive pose while the smiling woman dismissed one of her swords to fight with him on equal terms.

The first 'clang' when their blades met echoed through the apparently empty room. At first, Elrond thought it would be a woman’s fancy, she would not keep up with him and she would be easily exhausted. He soon realized that he had underestimated her. By the way, now he understood Thranduil, he added to himself. Now he could see it. She moved like a big feline, still smiling and with a wild joy dancing in her eyes, responding to his blows with everything she had, turning on her heel as if she was performing an intricate dance. Freckles peppered her well-built body, and her long legs were moving so fast that the elf had real difficulties in believing she belonged to the human race.  
As if she could read her thoughts, she threw her head back and stopped for a second to flash him a smile, before attacking him again. When their swords slid in parallel, screeching, she looked into his eyes and said:

"I know what is on your mind. I’m but the result of a mix from elven, human, dwarven blood and Eru only knows how many more ... Our fighting styles mixed in the same way, I understand you could find it slightly disturbing. "

"Don’t mistake my surprise for uneasiness. I’m afraid this is the first time I meet someone of your race." said Elrond, stopping a blow dangerously aimed for his neck.

Tilting her body to launch another assault, this time below the waist, she stated categorically: "There's a first time for everything. Nor did I meet anyone from Imladris, and I can tell your children are the best ambassadors. "

The elf lord raised an eyebrow, looking over his sword, and she could not help but made large innocent eyes for a second, before laughing again: "They are amazing. You must be very proud."

"I am." He replied, turning on itself to hit her on her right side with the flat of his sword. Unfortunately, it was the same side where she had the awful orcish wound, and she had to stop hissing, and she bended in two to avoid falling. Elrond rushed over to help her, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"I'm fine, you should not worry. An old wound, well, not that old. Give me a second.”

After that, she raised and swung her arm to test its mobility and, satisfied, she returned into an attack stance. Both evolved around themselves in a complex choreography until a sound at the door alerted the Huntress, who suddenly turned very pale and lowered her sword.

"Wow," a voice echoed in the nearly empty room. "You have found yourself a strange sparring partner, my lord Elrond."

She lowered her head in shame, and made an apology to the aforementioned, muttering: "If you'll excuse me, I’ll withdraw."

A little put off, Elrond replied: "Of course ..." ‘It’s my pleasure ' he wanted to add, but realized in time that it would only make the situation even more awkward. The Huntress got out very quickly, while the owner of the voice was following her with his gaze, a sadistic smile in his lips.

"My Lord Thranduil" Elrond bowed "What brings you to the arena so early in the morningh? I thought you will be already on your way to your realm. "

"Not yet, Peredhel. I'm waiting for king Thorin’s coronation. It will be held in a week or so, and I am royally bored. I guess you’ll stay, the king owes you a lot, his improved health among them. "

"I've only done my job, Your Majesty," said the elf, without paying much importance to it. "Of course I'll see you at the coronation ceremony, no doubt it will be magnificent."

"You have some strange companions, my lord Elrond," the king told him. "I do not know if you are aware of her origins ..."

"It is none of my concern" the dark haired elf replied dryly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must find my son Elrohir, who had to be already here."

The aforementioned actually was in the room, hidden under a wooden panel, with his brother, Fili and Kili and a frantic Glorfindel.

"What does that mop with legs think he is?" He was really upset. "Such disrespect to my lord ... I will offer him a new haircut very, very close to his neckline."

"Peace, Glorfindel" Elladan muttered. "He had also spoiled our plan. Ada was charmed. But all is not lost, at he had at least meet her. Maybe with a little help ... "

"No way," countered Kili "You have not seen her face when she left. Now she will lock herself in her chambers to brood and she will avoid your father. she believes all elves hate her dwarven blood, and half-breeds like her. Blame it on this albino mole, Thranduil "

"Well, we better think of something veeerryyy good, or this will not work" Elrohir replied.

"Maybe the blond bitchking has given us an idea without knowing," said Glorfindel with a sudden spark on his eyes. "The coronation ceremony will have a banquet, I guess ... and a ball ..."

"I know what you are thinking, Balrog-slayer" Fili said, "But there's a problem. You must get the Huntress to attend or dress for the occasion"

"Leave that on my account" a voice called behind them, startling everyone.

"Bilbo!" Exclaimed all five of them. "What are you doing here? We didn’t see you, you are a real burglar after all. "

"Do not think for a second you can plot something involving my friend without me knowing. But that elf has saved Thorin’s life, and he deserves all the happiness in this world, so count me in."said the little hobbit.

"Ok, Bilbo." Kili said with a chuckle, "we all know Uncle’s safety is _prior_ to you"

"Mmmphhhh" Bilbo was angry. "If you want my help, you'd better stop teasing me, dwarf."

And so the conspirators were back to work. Oblivious to what they were plotting on his head, Elrond was alone in the arena, and he looked to where the woman had left. Never in all his years had he seen anyone like her, half-blood like he was, but who stand proud and wild. Glorfindel, who had not stopped spying him, thought: 'A bull’s eye, as I said. Ai, mellon nin, I wouldn’t want to be in your stead’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, yay! So to celebrate, I have posted this long, long chapter.   
> Hope everyone enjoys it. Please fell free to comment any mistakes on my part!


	24. Life in the Mountain

Now that his royal patient was out of danger and most of the wounded were properly cared for, what the lord of Imladris had was quite some time to think and wander through the vast halls of the underground kingdom. He used to visit the extensive library, that had by chance been untouched by dragon fire. He was engrossed in every tome that caught his eye, aided by a sweet dwarf with ink stained fingers, Ori, who worked as the resident librarian and secretary of the King Under the Mountain.

The healer had left the King to the watchful care of another sweet little fellow. A secret smile reached his lips when he thought about Fate and her curious ways. Because no one on Middle-earth was prouder than Thorin Oakenshield, for sure, but he found no problem –in fact, he seemed to enjoy it- to Bilbo Baggins of Bag End’s constant fussing. The Hobbit was a tenacious one. He had traveled a long road from home to let the stubborn dwarf die, and he was standing beside his bed day and night in order to look to any royal need. Elrond had seen the stoic dwarf return this kindness with small gestures of tenderness, wave away a blonde curl from the hobbit’s face or rubbing slightly his palm with the thumbs. No doubt there would be some ceremony of _other kind_ soon, in addition to the coronation.

During one of the healer’s strides, when he walked out the library rubbing his eyes and thinking about some thing or other, he could only see a flash of green before a high figure collided with him. Startled, he turned around to find a pair of hazel eyes, bristling with ill-concealed anxiety.

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry" she apologized, shaking her head. "I was not looking where I was heading. I need to get out of here, I feel like the Montain will collapse on me ... as certain _beings_ inside it." But suddenly considering who stood before her, she cautiously said:

"Perhaps I am overstepping my boundaries, and if so, I am deeply sorry; but are you not in the same predicament? They say the beautiful Eldar race needs air and starlight to live. For long have you been here looking upon our people."

Elrond nodded in assent, but he could not help but to be surprised himself at her deep wisdom and her concern.

"You are right, my lady. Being deep in the earth, surrounded by nothing but stone bothers me, but the beauty and space of the dwarven Halls make it better in the end. Anyway, I will always need open air and light, of course, as all the Eldars."

"Well, that's good. Then I can pay you back the kindness you showed yesterday offering me your company. You could come outside with me; I have two horses, a basket of fresh food and a lot of free time. We can make good use of our time outdoors, so we may inquire if the caravans from the Blue Mountains have already been spotted. " the Huntress suggested.

"As you wish, my lady" Said the elf after a few seconds considering the idea "I will leave a word to those from my House not to worry about myself."

"Of course." She smiled, remembering the riotous elven twins "I'll wait for you in the guards’ gate to the left."

Elrond went straight to his quarters, but he found no one there. He wrote a hasty note explaining his whereabouts, but taking care not to mention who was joining him. He took his traveling cloak and headed for the gates. The Huntress was waiting for him, chatting at ease with the guards. When she saw him, her eyes lit up oddly for a second and the elf’s pulse missed a beat, but her face quickly returned to a stern expression, so that Elrond thought he had imagined it.

Taking their horses by the reins, the two went downhill for a walk, but once there, they mounted their horses and headed for the river surrounding the city of Dale. Instead of crossing it, when they reached the stream, the Huntress dismounted. She patted the cross of her horse with affection and, tying it to a willow tree, she headed to the riverside. Elrond watched without understanding what she meant to do until she saw her sink both hands in the stream and let out a deep sound of satisfaction, before taking up a lot of water and toss it over her own head.

"Oh, Valar" she said "The stream singing, the water, the sun above ... sometimes I feel like a plant that someone forgot on the table, with no natural light and no watering."

"You hardly seem to be fading" the elf chuckled, half between amused and ironic.

"Not on the outside" the Huntress answered, suddenly serious, and Elrond's stomach twisted painfully. To hide his embarrassment, he also dismounted from his horse and sat on one of the riverside rocks. He was very comfortable there, lulled by the sound of water, surrounded by foliage and with the sun streaming through the willow leaves, creating strange shadows on the grass. Nobody would say that, weeks earlier, this had been the scene of one of the bloodiest battles of this Age. As if she was reading his thoughts, the Huntress turned her wet face to him and said:

"And despite everything, life goes on. That's all that matters at the end, I guess."

"You are wise beyond your years," Elrond replied.

"No, it's just what I've learned from my travels." She dismissed. "I have visited many places, I have known cities on the sea, cities over the trees, cities that listen to the wind or that gallop on horses. But I've never been in Imladris. Is your land as bright as its inhabitants? If so, you likely have no matching in the face of Arda."

The elegantly concealed praise, made the elf arch one of his eyebrows, but inspecting his interlocutor, he perceived her genuine interest about his homeland, so he proceeded to describe the Last Homely House in as much detail as possible. Without realizing it, he found himself engaged in an interesting conversation about landscapes, architecture and history with the intriguing woman, discovering that she was much more than her looks. For his inner turmoil, he found himself increasingly attracted to her, as if she was a magnet.

When the sun was high in the sky, they rode to the road, to inquire if anyone had heard of dwarven caravans, but without success. They ate the food she had brought with her, that was exceptionally tasty, at least when compared with what Elrond had been served during the days he had spent on the mountain.

"I just happen to know the cook" she confessed with downcast eyes before suddenly lifting her head and let out a laugh that rolled down the hill. When she stopped laughing, she continued, "I feel so useless in the Mountain that I often help to cook or to serve the tables. I am not an engineer, nor a miner, nor a blacksmith, and no one needs me. It's really frustrating to realize that my skills are only effective in wartime. In times of peace I am nothing but a nuisance."

A nuisance he would welcome any day, the elf thought with an inner sigh. Resigned, he decided to steer the conversation towards more cheerful subjects, and asked about dwarven food, condiments or drinks. She was a clever talker, with a touch of contagious irony, and soon the elf’s slightly deeper laugh joined her tilting one. And so the hours passed until the moment they watched in silence as the last rays of sun disappeared behind Erebor’s frame. The first stars twinkled in the sky, and Elrond felt refreshed and relaxed, he didn’t feel the same for some time ago. If his sigh didn’t deceive him, so was his companion, who looked longingly to the dark blue sky. Sighing, she spurred her horse in silence.

Both ultimately agreed they needed to return to the Mountain, as the dinner bell would soon rang, and surely, someone would miss them. Before parting, and without thinking too much about it, lest he would regret it, the elf lord decided to make a bold move.

"If your work in the kitchen doesn’t keep you busy, perhaps you will like to join me sometime in the library. There are wonderful dwarven maps showing the Imladris area and its neighborhoods, the lands from where your friend Bilbo comes, you may find them quite interesting."

The woman's face reflected her surprise to his words, but she quickly answered:

"It will be my pleasure. Although I was sure the company of a half-dwarf would be a burden to any Eldar, I must confess that I was very wrong. Maybe I should not judge you all by the same standards." And she bowed deeply to dismiss herself with a beaming smile.

"Probably you shouldn’t." Elrond said very quietly, now assured he would see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for your birthday wishes, people! Here you have another chapter, I hope you'll like it.


	25. Chapter 25

That day, no one from the Imladris household had any suspicions about who had escorted his master all afternoon. They dined in the common room, where the elf could see from his high table that the Huntress wasn’t actually lying when she said she knew the cook, for he saw her slender shape in the distance carrying a large pot of stew along with some other kitchen boys.

However, next day after lunchtime a surprised librarian found the Huntress sitting on the floor between two shelves, with her legs crossed and her nose buried between the pages of an old volume about dwarven legends. Before Ori could ask her about her strange attendance, another inhabitant of Erebor approached her and bowed, pointing to a table in which several maps were deployed. Intrigued, the dwarf watched them for a while by the corner of his eye as he copied several letters. It was a formidable sight, both quietly discussing a point on the map, the same height, the same shapely bodies, their heads bent over the parchment, unintentionally making her curls to mingle with his dark locks in a perfect counterpoint.

The dwarf quietly slipped out the library and went straight to the heirs of Thorin, who were explaining a complicated game of dices to the elven twins.

"Fili, Kili" he cleared his throat, "Can I talk to you a moment, alone, if you please?" He said embarrassed.

"Nah, Ori, do not worry. Those are our friends, you can say whatever you want in front of them." dismissed Fili with a wave of his hand.

"It's the Huntress" the young dwarf followed his trail of thinking, "She is in the library and unfortunately she seems to have returned to her old ways, if you catch my meaning."

"What? Are you sure?" Kili was shocked, "She is in the library with that witless Elvenking? I can’t believe it! Let go of me! I WILL TELL HIM A PIECE OF MY MIND." He shouted.

"No, no" Ori quickly corrected "What I mean is that she is with an elf lord. I would never… can you hear me? N.E.V.E.R., point my words, let that elven filth pass through the door of _my_ library." Snarled the usually shy librarian.

"Let me get this straight. She is with an elf, but he isn’t Thranduil?" Fili was surprised "Who is he, then? And what on the name of Mahal are they doing?

"That dark-haired elf, Thorin's healer, I don’t remember his name. They have spent hours – _hours!-_ looking at some very old maps and discussing the situation of cities that I had not heard about in my whole life. " said a puzzled Ori

The two dwarven brothers and their elven counterparts looked at each other with amusement and burst into laughter. Ori did not understand anything, but he could not be heard over that much noise, so he gestured with his hand and returned to his duties before the occupants of the library noticed he was missing.

Meanwhile, in the other room, the conspirators looked very, very happy.   
"So in the library .."

" _looking at maps_? It is what they call it nowadays?"

"Shut up, I think Ori literally meant that, if not we would have heard his cries of outrage from here."

"Ah, okay. In any case, it is magnificent, spectacular, wonderful,…. er, brilliant, I mean. We could not ask for a better development. Now we only need our little furry-footed friend to fulfill his part of the plan." said Elladan.

"Of course. He has our uncle wrapped around his little finger, and therefore all the craftsmen in the Mountain are at his service. So they will be itching to be stitching the dress!"Kili laughed at his own joke until his brother hit him on the head. "Ouch!" He complained, "and what was that for?"

"That's a bad joke," said the blond dwarf, and proceeded to explain the game to the elves, willing to take all the gold they will have in their bags.

The days went by, and the conspirators watched with satisfaction as the Huntress and the healer met almost everywhere in the vast Halls of the dwarven realm, to look up a book, to taste some new recipe or only to go riding. Elrond felt increasingly like an invisible hand gripped his insides every time she made a little gesture. He missed his wife, that was undeniable, but she seemed so different to her that the two surely did not belong to the same plane of existence. Where Celebrian was ethereal, elegant and fragile, the Huntress was feline, voluptuous and with overflowing energy. He loved his wife, but he did not fool himself about his attraction to the redhead.

On the other hand, he pondered the relationship between said woman and watercourses. Indeed, she had a strange inclination toward the sound of waterfalls, streams, or even drops falling in the caves. It was often possible to find her by the underground lake that fed the forges, making patterns on the water with her bare feet, listening to the sound of water drops falling on the pristine surface. Being the secret bearer of ring of Power that controlled water and air, the elf wondered if there was a connection between her love of the liquid element and the pull he felt on his heart every time he looked at her.

A glorious day they even went down together again to the training ring. However, they did not face each other, but they witnessed how Glorfindel showed his battle experience to the dwarven guards. However, when the latter finished with them, he silently motioned to the Huntress to join him. Happy as a child who has received a new toy, she but jumped down the steps of the stands, she removed her jerkin and rolled up the sleeves of the black shirt she was wearing, picking up one of the swords of the recruits and weighing it with ease.

The blond elf watched her with an indulgent smile from his position, seeing Elrond shifting uncomfortably in his place. 'Well,' he thought 'My friend, you deserve it. You have ignored me for all the week, leaving me to rot in this hole of boredom, while you spent your days discussing about the _wonderful_ properties of Harad pepper with a mortal woman.’ Despite everything, he was extremely happy for his friend, though he doubted he would gather the courage to ask the threatening woman for.

He took a defensive stance and gestured her to attack. The strength of her blow surprised him. She had quite a vicious kick for such a lithe body. Should be her dwarven blood, he thought. For a long while, they were measuring their strength until, determined not to be gentle with her, the blond elf made a quick feint, hitting her with the flat of his sword on her leg, and sending her on her back to the ground.

She looked at him from her current position, and with an infectious laugh, she took his hand to help her stood up. Glorfindel watched in amazement as she leant in, with one hand on her heart in salute, an ancient gesture of respect they did during the First Age. Mortal she would be, but perhaps she was worth the try, the Noldor decided.  
"We must celebrate properly this delightful gathering," he said carelessly "Maybe you will like to join us, my Lords Elladan and Elrohir await me in the common room with some beer, I presume."

With a quick glance at the crowd that did not go unnoticed for the blond elf, the Huntress nodded and replied: "Give me a moment, I will refresh myself and be with you shortly"

"Do not let us waiting, my lady," laughed the elf as he walked away.

Meanwhile, Elrond had come down the stairs and headed for the woman to warn her: "You should be careful if you are going to share a drink with Glorfindel and the twins. They have a fearsome reputation in Imladris."

"But I drink like a dwarf!" she told him with a laugh. "I will rise to the challenge, no doubt."

Shaking his head and suddenly jealous –even if he didn’t want to admit it- the elf said goodbye to her and retired to his quarters. The dwarves of Erebor would remember for a long time what happened that night of drinks, laughter, songs, riddles and an endless stream of witty comments and dirty jokes. It finished with a shapeless mass of heirs to different houses snoring harmoniously in the middle of the battlements and a _very_ disheveled Glorfindel sprawled on the stairs, clutching the ankles of an unconscious Huntress. Apparently, they came up only to check what time it was. 'By the Valar, I'm so drunk I can’t tell you if it's day or night' the Huntress had said slurring the words, to the guards’ delight.


	26. Crowning day

Meanwhile, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had not been idle. A proper hobbit he was, and he saw an opportunity to put his vast knowledge about the organization of parties and social events at the king’s service. Everything had to be perfect, and he planned to the smallest detail. It was the culmination of everything Thorin had sacrificed for, and he would do anything to see the dwarf smile, that little sincere smile that he reserved for the little hobbit when they were alone. Poor Bilbo flushed just thinking how butterflies fluttered in his stomach when those lips curved up and he was at the other end of a warm look from the king.

However, doubts assailed him as soon as he began to think about his part in the secret plan of the Durin’s brothers. Truth be told, his friend seemed more cheerful these last days, and according to the unruly bunch of _plotters,_ the elven lord was completely smitten with her, but there was a factor they hadn’t considered. A lot of people would attend a coronation ceremony, and many dignitaries. Among them, of course, a representative of Mirkwood. And that would probably turn their plan to a rightful mess.

In short, the dress was ready and waiting for its owner. It was a wonderful combination of fashion and jewelry that would surely make the head of each male attending the banquet turn. Speaking of said owner, she had just crossed the threshold of his door.

"Morning, Faron, my friend." He greeted. "Ready for the big day?"

"Actually, if by ‘big day’ you mean 'big amount of work' then yes, Bilbo. The cooks are hysterical with that menu you planned, I had not a moment's rest and we still have a thousand things to prepare for the feast."

"What do you mean?" The little fellow paled ostensibly. "You would not attend the banquet?"

"No, Bilbo. Someone has to serve the delicate morsels that you have chosen for Thorin. "She chuckled." And don’t try to fool me. You are doing this on his behalf, only for him to be happy."

"Damn it!" the hobbit swore under his breath." But I had a present for you, if you want to attend the ceremony," he said aloud. "There it is, on the table."

"Oh, Bilbo! It is so wonderful. Exquisite, really. But I'm afraid I must decline. They count on me to help with the hard work, and somebody has to do it."

"Please Faron, please. I would very much like you to sit next to me. " He tried a last effort.

"Do not worry, Bilbo, after I’ll finish we will take a drink together. But I can’t wear such a beautiful outfit while serving tables, master hobbit " She replied in earnest, running a hand over the soft material.

Defeated, the hobbit reported his failure to the rest of the conspirators, who were definitely annoyed, thinking they had lost a very good opportunity.

"We will leave in two days" Elladan was upset "Ada won’t find the courage to say anything to her, they will part and all our efforts will be for naught."

"Always taking the world on her shoulders" Kili, himself, was angry. "I think she matches your father in that sense, if you'll excuse my bluntness. What a pair of… fools."

The coronation ceremony passed without complications. All dignitaries were at their best, the Company, Dain, Bard, and representatives from Dale, Laketown, Mirkwood and Imladris. There was even Gandalf, who was overwhelmed by the solemnity of the event, and the significance thereof. However, the atmosphere changed to a more festive one when they reached the Great Hall. It was decorated with banners of Durin’s blue, and richly provided with food and drink –a hobbit hand on this- at every corner. The servants walked everywhere, aware of the slightest desires of the guests, including the tall figure of the Huntress, who came and went from the kitchen dressed in her regular clothes.  
At one point, she was headed to the main table with a few dishes, where his guests of honor surrounded the new King Under the Mountain. She greeted him with a brief word and resumed her work. Yet another pair of eyes had not ceased to follow her since she entered the Hall, and a sarcastic Thranduil said:

“Servants in this Mountain deal with too much familiarity. But look" he said gathering attention from all those seated at the table" how the mighty have fallen. From an invincible warrior to a simple cook assistant, you have revealed your real skills."

Blushing to the tips of her hair, the Huntress turned arount to face the humiliation to which she was being exposed. However, looking at the frightened eyes of his friend Bilbo, she thought that any reaction on her part would ruin the party for which he had worked so hard, and she recalled the gift he had given her hours earlier. With that last thought and before anyone else could speak, she turned on her heels and disappeared through the main door.

"Coward" Thranduil whispered.

"What are you saying, my lord?" Thorin bent forward, holding Dain’s hands below the table, who was about to crush the skull of the Elvenking.

"Nothing, Your Majesty. Pray forgive my disturbance. " The elf said “I recalled we were talking about the trade agreement between the Forest and Erebor."

Meanwhile, the woman arrived striding into her room. She got rid of her working clothes, went to her bathroom and washed herself. She picked up her curls over her neck and placed a bright ornament on her hair, but she left her neck and wrists bare. She quickly taked Bilbo’s gift above her head and looked herself in the mirror. Satisfied with what she had achieved in nothing but a few minutes, she walked steadily towards the Great Hall door.

"Announce me in" she asked dryly to the dwarven herald. She held her breath.

"Lords and ladies, dwarven-friends, may I introduce yourselves to my lady Selene, from the Huntress, daughter of the Guardian of the North, sister of the Guardian of the West, a descendant of the Iron Hill, elf-friend, dwarven-friend, champion of Rohan, banner of Gondor, captain of Harad." the solemn voice of the herald sounded above all the chatting. All heads turned to the door.

She started walking to the main table in the center of the Hall. She was wearing a dark red sleeveless dress, made from some strange silk weave, thicker than usual, that clung to her curves and ended in a discrete v-neck line, lined by a small gold chain. However, there were muffled sounds of surprise as she went on. Indeed, the back of her dress was fully opened to the end of her spine, and thus held through a golden chain where a large ruby, red as blood, hung in perfect balance. The whole ensemble was a masterpiece of craft and was made to highlight the strange beauty of its bearer.

All dwarves were staring at the jewel and the generous amount of skin beneath it, unconsciously motioning their head with each swing of the hips that made the chain oscillate in harmony.

Arriving at the central table, she bowed, offering a perfect view of her shoulders and her beautiful ivory skin, and she asked the king's permission to join the festivities.

"Of course, my friend. We are honored to. We have shared our place in battle and you will always have a place at the Durin’s table while these walls remain standing. Dain, dear cousin, you might want to show her where to sit, "said Thorin, gesturing her to take a seat.

"The mercy of the Valar help us," he muttered when she was sitting "Who was so wicked to dress her like this? She almost gave me a heart attack, and Mahal knows I’m not interested ... "

From one side of the table, a soft voice replied "That was me, Thorin. Have I been wrong?"

"No, Bilbo, never mind. Although we’ll have to put some guards around her when wine will start flowing and dwarves will feel so bold as to try to courtship her."

"I think she knows how to fend herself" boomed the baritone voice of Dain Ironfoot."I think I understand what master Hobbit was intending to achieve, and I will look forward to it"

"I still don’t understand," replied Thorin "and I think I do not want to know. Regarding those supply wagons, Dain, let's see if we agree ... " the new king went on.

Meanwhile, conveniently located by a vengeful Dain in the middle of the _other_ elven delegation, the Huntress stand to the angry looks the Mirkwood king addressed her. She was sitting between Elladan and Elrohir, who protected her, but she desperate tried not to look to her left. She feared what she could find in the depths of those gray eyes that had escorted her all week, and that had started to appear also in her dreams. 'So close and yet so far' she said to herself. However, she decided to make the best of the situation and she turned to the twins, who looked at her with undisguised approval.

"I bet you never think to see me dressed like a lady, albeit I’m not one. But today I could simply fool anyone”

"Faron, my dear, please don’t get me wrong, but that dress only emphasizes all the features that make you a lady, if you catch my meaning” said Elladan. Elrohir seemed to had lost any thinking and talking abilities, and he opened his mouth like a fish outside water. Glorfindel, who was beside him, patted him on the back and said:

"Get a grip on yourself, ellon, anyone would say it is the first time you see a woman. Although I suppose that's true. For me, it is the first time I see a woman like you."

"Glorfindel, mellon nin. You're going to make me blush. " the Huntress replied.

"Even better," he replied winking, "you get to match the colour of this wonderful dress".

The laughter of the elves helped to undo the knot in her stomach, and she risked to steal a look to the other side, where Elladan sat with his father. Elrond was splendid, as always, with a long robe of earth tones and a silver circlet on his temples, but he was turned to his dinner partner, Bard, and he was not looking in her direction. With an inward sigh, the Huntress noticed a vice grip in her heart, and she promised to herself not to falter. The movement was not lost on the twins, who internally scolded his father for not paying more attention to the magnificent creature at his side.

In any case, comments, discussions and food jokes continued. They all rose while the tables were retired and the area prepared for drinking and dancing. The Huntress moved like a torrent flowing between dwarven groups, she greeted Fili and Kili and hugged them, then she bowed her head to one or other noble. However, she avoided two main points: first, where the Mirkwood delegation stood apart, casting glances of superiority to the rest of the crowd, and the second, the small space occupied by the lord of Imladris, currently engaged in an animate conversation with his musician.

If the Half-elven had thought he will stand unnoticed, he was sorely mistaken. He contempled amused how the little hobbit timidly approached him, and greeted him with a nod.

"My lord Elrond. I hope that the festivities are being to your liking. I can’t told you enough times how much I owe you for saving the life of Thorin after the battle."

"I'm glad to be of use," he replied. "Can I help you, master Hobbit?"

"You overlook nothing, my lord. I only want to ask you something very inconsequential, " Bilbo mysterious said. "Tell me, if I may ask: What is your favorite color?"

"Red" Elrond answered without thinking, realizing a second later the scheming of his interlocutor.

"Yeah, as I presume. How odd, most dwarves in this room will answer the same." The cheeky hobbit replied. "I hope that you understand my reasons for saying this."

"Maybe ... And maybe that will teach me not to underestimate your race in the future, Halfling" retorted Elrond. With a significant glance at the Huntress, the hobbit went to bring the new king a beer tankard, and the king welcomed him with a warm smile.


	27. A mask for a ball

However, Elrond, Gil-Galad’s most trusted counsellor, who had defeated the armies of Sauron, who had fought alongside Isildur and had seen him falling, was now lacking courage. He wanted to approach her more than anything, and his fingers tingled with desire to feel the skin that was so in display for all to see. He was even feeling slightly jealous. But as he noticed the gazes she was gathering, he focused in his problem. Would he found a ground for his advances, or would he be forced to steal some glances from afar, as the Elvenking was currently doing? The healer supposed that she had had enough of the Eldar issues for all her life, despite the closeness that flourished between them during that week. He thought it was only a kind of friendship and nothing more. Therefore, he would not risk for a straight rejection, especially considering he would be gone in no more than two days, and there was very little chance for their paths to cross again.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by the first notes of dwarven music in the Great Hall. The hobbit was now moving between the groups, asking people to join the dance. Truth was it was a happy meeting, and the alcohol flowed in abundance, so many of the attendees were involved in dances and songs. Even some of the elven guards timidly moved their heads along with the music, but they were not very comfortable with the vigorous dwarven rhythm.  
  
His offspring was indeed very comfortable among dwarves, as expected. They were engaged in a drinking contest with the heirs of Erebor, being cheered by the entire Company and by several dwarves who had joined to watch the curious event. Among them, the Huntress smiled indulgently and was politely declining each and every dwarf that was intoxicated enough to try and catch her around her waist, even at the risk of losing a limb. Slightly overwhelmed by circumstances, she had retreated to the further corner of a table, where she was trapped by the owner of an unmistakable platinum straight mane.  
  
The discomfort was blatant from were the Lord of Imladris watched the scene, but he could not hear what they were talking. She turned her waist to stay out of the Sindar reach, but she was not quick enough. He placed behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders, and whispered some quick words in her ear that made her turn pale. Nobody seemed to bother, and he was tempted to step into, until help came from an unexpected guest.  
  
"My Lord Thranduil, could you please spare me a few moments of your time?" Bard said dispassionately. "I would like to discuss the wooden girders that we can collect from Mirkwood to provide Dale buildings". But as he said these words, the man looked straight into him with a look of contempt, and removed the Elvenking from the woman’s side.  
  
'He thinks I am a coward.' Elrond realized. 'The whole damn Mountain has noticed it, and they think I'm stupid. And indeed I am, if I have not been able to release her from the arrogant elf’s grip. '  
  
Strengthened by this certainty, the elf went straight to the table where the Huntress was trying to bring back some colour to her cheeks with a glass of wine, a shade that matched her dress. However, the flush quickly returned to her face when the healer greeted her.  
  
"Lord Elrond." She leaned in,"I hope you're having a nice evening, and that you have conveniently enjoyed the food." Her gesture was somehow akward, as if she was unsure of his attention. The elf decided to go straight to the point.  
  
"The food was perfect, but I would very much enjoy your company, if you agree."  
  
"Eh, of course ..." she replied, a bit misplaced. "If at some point I have made you believe that your presence was not welcome, I’m truly sorry."  
  
"No, my lady. I could not help but notice your current discomfort, and I believed maybe I was imposing myself."  
  
"Oh, not at all" She replied angrily. "That's an issue I'm afraid I'll have to carry for the rest of my life. But please let’s not talk about it, I beg you. On the other hand, your children are a tribute to Imladris endurance. His exploits beating none other than the Princes of Erebor would be the stuff of legends inside the Mountain."  
  
"Maybe. I do not think that's a good sign." The elf replied with a smile that reached his eyes. "How about you? Do you not feel inclined to teach them a lesson on dwarven abilities? "  
  
"No, my mixed blood has already been a source of conflict today. I do not feel particularly inclined to celebrate. I'm still surprised you would want to approach me risking the disapproval of your kin."  
  
"My lady," said the elf softly. "Do you know what the second part of my name, Peredhel, means?"  
  
The realization came to the Huntress as a blow to the head, and she felt as fitting the pieces of a puzzle. "Luthien's choice and fate." she muttered. "Half Elf."  
  
"That I am." he told her. "And some people in Middle-Earth still consider it shameful. So believe me when I say your ancestors have nothing to do with what you are, or what the others –or me- think of you."  
  
"Dance with me, please." She asked without further ado.  
  
"Of course, my lady. How could I refuse?" He replied.  
  
Both headed to the open space arranged for dancing, while dwarven harps played a sad melody. Oblivious to the odd looks from the audience, Elrond placed his hands on the Huntress’ small back, which put him in contact with her smooth skin. A chill ran down his spine, and sparks of electricity were transmitted to the tips of his fingers, which recognized the impossible softness of her skin, her warmth and the slight shudder that she experienced at his touch. That made the hairs on his arms stand slightly on end. Both moved in sync with the music, their slender bodies almost the same height and shape. She did not withdraw his eyes from him, but said nothing, letting herself to be guided by his hand, gliding like she was swimming on a lake. With a sudden recognition, the elf realized that was precisely what drawn him to her. She was fluid like a stream, and her waves called to him inexorably, as the seagulls to the Undiying Lands.  
  
Meanwhile, all attendants were spellbound by the image they offered. Two powerful beings dancing in the Halls like they were the image of the heroes of old. The dwarves sighed in defeat, knowing they were not worthy adversaries for the Elven lord. Waves of anger steamed off Thranduil, that noticed by a very pleased –and drunk- Dain, while Oakenshield was whispering into the ear of his hobbit, asking him about his role in the whole event, to which he was answered with a soft laugh. The twins and the delegation of Imladris didn’t realized what his master was doing, absorbed as they were in the beer contest with Durin's heirs. However, clever Nori gave them a nudge in the ribs, gesturing to the dance area, and all were ecstatic for a moment. Then, they proceed to raise their glasses and made a noisy toast, along with some sassy remarks about the evening to come. And they resumed their drinking.


	28. As the light goes down

The couple continued to dance for what could be a minute or an eternity, neither of them would have told, until a hindrance came between them. An angry hindrance crowned with autumn leaves, to be precise.

"Excuse me for disrupting you, my Lord" Thranduil interjected "Would you allow me this dance, my lady?"

Faced with the risk of a diplomatic incident, the dark-haired elf removed himself and motioned to the Elvenking, but the Huntress looked at him with a growing ache on her heart as she faced her new partner.

"Pray tell me, Faron, are you intending to punish me?" asked the high-born elf "You wanted me to realize that your race does not matter to other suitors? Don’t waste your time, Elrond Eärendilion never will have eyes but for one ellith, gone long time ago. However, I must admit defeat. You are right. Even with your dwarf legacy I lust for you, I desire you more than ever. I am as yours as you are mine. You cannot deny it.

Now let this madness end and come back with me to the forest. I promise that you can visit our neighbors in Erebor as often as you want."

The woman looked at him blankly, until the real meaning of his words sunk in.

"Oh, no, Thranduil. You think I’m doing this only to make you jealous. By Mahal’s mighty hammer, how wrong you are. There is nothing going on between Elrond and I. How could it? Not in my wildest dreams... Besides, you stated my real status for all in Arda to see. I'm just an half-breed soldier, who is useless outside a battle.

Alas, I will not go with you, king of Mirkwood. I am on my own, and as such, my fate affects only myself. And I think I've been polite enough to hear your arguments, but other matters require my attention. If you'll excuse me.” The woman said dryly and hastily exited the Hall, leaving the elf standing in disbelief.

Suddenly overcome by the circumstances, the Huntress left and walked quickly towards the battlements, where she stand and watched the sunlight fade. A sudden chill run through her and she hugged herself with both hands, as she had no cloth to protect her against the hard autumn wind whispering among the stones. So absorbed she was than she did not hear the footsteps approaching, until strong arms surrounded her, and she no longer felt cold, indeed, a sudden wave of heat was rising from the pit of her stomach. She turned around very, very slowly; only to find solemn gray eyes and ebony hair gleaming under the last rays of sun.

His fingers slowly roamed the outline of the horrible scar on her right arm, but his other hand had found shelter in the small of her back, pulling her to him, gently but inexorably. She decided to stop fighting and she ducked onto the embrace, but lifted her face to bring her lips to his. She would always had her eyes open, undeterred, intending not to miss any moment to treasure them in her memory.

They both collided like waves against a cliff, melting in an endless kiss that betrayed all tension stocked since their first meeting. Suddenly, the astonished and amazed dwarven guard saw a whirlpool forming at the couple’s foot, an spiraling cloud raising around them. Even the air smelled strongly of oxygen, such as when a storm was coming. A perfect storm it was, and they were in the center of the maelstrom, where their tongues danced and whirled, and both their bodies melted, though it seemed not enough. They didn’t pay attention to the strange phenomenon that surrounded them as they had not stopped to watch the other in the eye. Eventually, when they broke the kiss they saw the clouds dissipate into the atmosphere. It was her who spoke first:

"By the Valar, what has just happened? My lord Elrond, "she talked with an unusual tenderness " is there something you want to tell me?"

He knew what his partner was asking for, and Elrond looked down at his hand, where Vilya shimmered with a light blue glow, almost unnoticeable.  
"I think it is not the time." The elf-lord stated. "But I guess that means there are powers in this land that rejoice for us, my lady."

He could not go on, because both her hands grabbed him by his collar, and he was immediately silenced by a kiss. She stood proudly, for she would not be denied again, with the force of a violent flood that seeped through his defenses, as the wind swirled around them and entangled their hair. When they stopped, they proceeded to walk down the stairs of the walkway, and they disappeared into the intricate passages of Erebor without even a word.

Miles away, two beings perceived the unexpected awakening of Vilya. Gandalf, who was still in the Great Hall, talking to Thorin’s Company, only muttered 'At last!'. He watched amused as each and every one of the flames fluttered as drawn by an invisible breeze, and he said aloud: "Nori, I think I've won the poll: Pay it!". Far away, in the Golden Wood, an extraordinary beautiful elf was very surprised, as she had not Seen any evidence of this, and she shouted angrily at the sky, contemplating a white ring shining in the sun "It can’t be true! "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Last term wasn't easy, in a good way. Lots of work to do. Thank you for staying there!


	29. Into the heart of the Mountain

The entire Hall was celebrating -or deeply in their cups already-, so anyone missed the head representative of the elven delegation, or if they did, they had enough discretion to not point it out. In the heart of the mountain, however, in a room with no windows –this fact seemed a continuum in the Huntress’ life recently- she stripped him of the elegant robes he had worn all day. The last time someone had touch him in that way was so long ago, even for an elf, that the entire situation struck him as an oddity as much as his recent behavior that leaded him there. For a moment, a clear warning echoed in his head although he knew it was a losing battle, because the guilt would hit him hard as soon as he was alone to think. Alas, now was not the time.

A small gesture, merely to find the clasp of a golden chain, and suddenly all voices in his head silenced, and he could only focus on the soft silk sliding over an ivory body to rest as a large pool of red blood to the Huntress’ feet. Her skin was not a perfect like a Firstborn’s, and it showed a map of freckles, beauty spots and scars, but it was also a landscape of smooth curves that attracted him hopelessly. He grabbed her waist and laid her in the bed, so he could watch the smooth and flat stomach, small and round breasts that were the perfect size in his palm, the lovely curve of her back and the endless length of her legs.

Without realizing it, he was running his fingers slowly all over her, leaving a trail of small shudders that made her squirm beautifully. The woman let him, her eyes clouded with lust, but it seemed as if she was the one that had centuries of wisdom and _he was_ the young mortal who had just started his path in Middle-earth. All things considered, the elf thought the analogy was particularly suitable.

For a moment, he could not help wondering if the arrogant Elvenking felt the same way when he was faced with such a creature. Would he feel on edge, watching the void at his feet, yet wanting to jump and dive in her waters, drowning? Or would he rather burn in her mortal flame, as the heat steamed from her in waves, and her flamboyant hair spreaded beneath his hands?

With the last remains of his sanity, the elf drew back his hand from her body, ready to resist, only hearing a faint sound of disapproval from the lips of her bedmate. There was a measure to what someone could endure, and his legendary self-control cracked beyond repair without a word or a gesture. Maybe it was precisely because there were no words or gestures from her, who was still looking at him as if she could read him like nobody had done before.

So he quickly disposed of his last clothes and bent over her to cover her sighing mouth with a long kiss, full of passion, repressed desires and unspoken words, unanswered movements, unshared anguish and mostly of loneliness. Then, she rose from her apparent slumber, like in a song, and her warmth enveloped him completely, softly pinning him to the bed. Feather touches were placed everywhere on his immortal flesh, as if they could ease his pain. It was a stolen moment in time, but for a while the pain receded, burnt in the flames of passion.

His lips roamed the woman's collarbone, sucking her flesh, so hot and _alive_ , eliciting moans that she poured into his ears, as her body melted into his, impossibly close. With unexpected ferocity, she draw her nails down his back, and in response, the elf entered her in a thrust of his powerful hips. She screamed, and the sound had the power to freeze him immediately. He feared he had hurt her, and he stopped, with a question in his eyes. Against all odds, she smiled at him from the depths of the bed and slightly tilted her pelvis to accommodate his length. With a tender gesture, she brushed a strand of hair from his face and motioned for him to continue. Without any further advice, the elf buried himself in her body, and a new deep sound arose from her throat.

Therefore, they went on and on until beads of sweat glistened on both bodies, and her head was at an almost impossible angle, tilted back and lost in the wings of lust, exposing her long neck. A circumstance that was widely exploited by his companion to devour and nick the soft skin there. Eventually her pink mouth opened in a perfect "O" and both came almost in unison, her moans drowning the wounded animal cry that escaped involuntarily from the elf’s mouth.

Once their instincts sated, he feared the Huntress would decide to leave, as many others had done before. However, it seemed the healer had found a remedy for his own wounded heart, and he would not let her go so easily, so he took advantage of her weary state to place himself beside her on the bed and stroked her curls, running small kisses on her sensitized neck. When he saw the marks he left there, the elf muttered an apology, but she, who had not spoken since the beginning, replied:

"Don’t be sorry, Elrond of Rivendell. Nor am I." she uttered a soft laugh. He could not help but smile in return; glad she could not see his face.

However, her stillness wouldn’t last long, because she turned to look at him, and she found some answer in his eyes, so she placed herself above him and started kissing him again. First, her kisses were lazy and languid, but they grew more demanding, until they were again a whirl of limbs, this time she rode him to completion, and left him exhausted but deeply mended inside. He was no longer a young elf, and therefore could not answer the needs of the insatiable woman who was at his side, but she did not mind the slightest. Apparently, she was very pleased, judging by her current predicament, in which she was drawing strange shapes on his bare thighs, and seemed to have no intention of leaving the bed in which both were lying. He _knew_ this could not last but he decided to throw caution to the wind, and thought there was no other place he'd rather be at that moment.


	30. The day after

When the first rays of sun broke through the clouds, the Lonely Mountain seemed to live up to its name. Not a soul walked the corridors, and an unnatural silence reigned in the forges. However, a true symphony of snoring orchestrated in the large Halls. Following the illustrious example of one from the Company, Bofur, most dwarves of the Iron Hills slept under the banquet tables, surrounded - and eventually covered- by the remains of the dinner served yesterday. On the other hand, the lucky chosen ones who had managed to reach their rooms were often sleeping in unseemly positions, as in the case of the Ironfoot’s quarters, in which a pair of elven twins were dozing in the bathtub, while Dain himself had collapsed on the carpet, without being able to get to bed. The heirs of Erebor, meanwhile, were in the royal wing, sleeping on both sides of a disheveled –and _very_ naked-young scribe.

Luckily, the representatives from Mirkwood had left Erebor when the party was declining, or else a very drunk Glóin, who was currently sleeping embraced to the foot of a statue of the Fathers of the Dwarves, would not hesitated to bang the their leader’s skull with an axe if he looked at him again with his trademark disgusted stare. Meanwhile, another King went down from the high heights of his duties, obligations, liabilities and isolation to dawn with his Durin’s nose buried among some golden curls that smelled of summer and green things. Oakenshield slept with a possessive arm around his burglar, which finally had proved to steal more than a dragon’s hoard, after all. With an indulgent smile, the hobbit looked at the sleeping king, seeing the worry lines around his eyes softened by sleep, and he snuggled under the embrace again, willing to dream a little more before waking up.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the mountain, as usual a certain Elf Lord awoke with the dawn, used to begin his duties at first light in the morning. Although this time it a pile of correspondence was not what awaited him, but rather a pair of hazel eyes with a mischievous glint. Sighing, the elf tried to ignore the rumpled sheets and all clothes scattered around the room, and greeted her by saying:

"Good morning, my lady. I trust that you've rest well. "

"Such formalities, Elrond." I chided her. "I've had _only_ a few hours to rest, thanks to you, I’m afraid ..."

"It wasn’t only _my_ fault ..." he whispered softly. "I had not be witness to so much energy since the twins had an illness and were forced to stay in bed for a week."

“Are you suggesting, perhaps, that you no longer have the _vitality_ of youth?" She joked.

"Oh, for the Valar’s sake, woman, you’ll be the death of me."

"Hmm, that sounds like a challenge. Let's see what I can do to redeem myself" She replied with a playful tone. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, until a naughty smile that did not anticipate anything good for him –or maybe something _very_ good- appeared in her face. She drew a line with her tongue from his mid-torso to his lower abs, causing an involuntary shiver in the elven body. Once she was sure to have his attention, she traced the path upwards, to nibble lightly his nipples with delight, eliciting some undoubtedly interesting sounds from him. Of course, her actions could not be this restrained, so she followed the same route to his inner thighs, where she stopped for a second, as if she was allowing him a last quiet moment, before taking his cock in her hands, already hardened by her ministrations, and stroke it briefly. Then she proceeded to put her lips around it and thoroughly devour him with eagerness.

Coherent thoughts vacated the lucky elf’s brain, replaced by waves of sparks exploding inside his closed eyelids, as if he was contemplating the starry night. The Huntress’ lips did wonders to his elfhood, and her hands caressed the inside of his thighs, as his whole being shuddered, lifting his hips to bury his cock further in the warmth of her mouth. She took him whole, again and again, until he could hold back no more and exploded in her soft mouth. She greedily drank every ounce of his pleasure, and then looked at him intentionally, running her wicked tongue around the edge of her lips in an obscene gesture that almost caused his eyes to pop out of their sockets.

After this, no one left the room in a while, even after the inhabitants of Erebor resumed their daily activities. The only signal that someone alive was in there, were the raids that the Huntress drove to the kitchen to steal some food and the dirty dishes left by the door for the surprised servants to collect. The Valars smiled at them, or so she though, because they had chosen her quarters and not his, because surely they would not hear the end of it from the mischievous twins, well, that if they recover from the huge hangover they would surely sport now.

The aforementioned Elven brothers were deeply surprised, not by the expected absence of his father, but by the strange disappearance of his captain of the guards, Glorfindel. No one knew where he was since the night of the party, when he had had his fair share of alcohol like them. Determined to solve the mystery, they sought help from the Erebor princes, and together they searched up and down the Halls and the corridors, despite having the mother of all hangovers. The blond character was missing from the main part of the next day, until sunset where the guards warned them that a rider was approaching the gates of the Mountain. There was Glorfindel astride his Asfaloth, apparently immune to the beer side-effects and grinning as the cat who ate the mouse. The twins immediately sensed a story laid behind his satisfaction, and showered him with questions until the elf, annoyed at such insistence, answered:

"Mind your own business, ellyn. Should you not search for your Adar?"

“No, no. We know exactly where he is, and we hope he will not remove himself from where he is for at least a few days. Or a week, if you ask for my opinion." muttered the brothers.

"Let me guess. He is in the library." The elven Captain commented dispassionately.

"Indeed," said Elladan "studying a _very curvy_ hypothesis."

"Are you serious? My lord Elrond finally drank and got laid? It didn’t happen since the days of Gil-Galad. Methinks there must be another explanation."

"Are you willing to bet on it, lord of the Golden Flower?" Elrohir asked with interest, "I happen to know exactly where the Huntress’ quarters are. We'll see who's right. "

"So what are we waiting for? If it’s true, I won’t miss it at any price ."


	31. When the Balrog has nothing better to go about...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title refers to an old Spanish saying that tells: "When the demon has nothing better to go about, he chases flies with his tail", that means when people get bored, they usually do something utterly stupid, or they plan some mischief. Basically, a Balrog is a big demon with a big tail...

The three elves walked toward the guest wing, curiosity plaguing them, wondering if there was a chance that Elrohir was right. They remembered seeing her father dancing with the Huntress, but then the Elvenking approached her and Elrond suddenly vanished on thin air. There were fat chances the woman was gone with the infamous Mirkwood king and his entourage, and they would soon hear a certain redhead Queen that killed spiders in the Black Forest.

"You won’t persuade me. According to you, they have been inside her quarters for _more than a day_. Elrond has never failed to meet his obligations, and more the less for so much time! He would surely attend a meeting with the King under the Mountain, or helping some of the dwarves off their hangover in the healing quarters." Glorfindel told them. But secretly he wished the elfling was right. He had spent many years guarding the elf lord, and he considered him a friend, so he knew that he was too much responsible for his own good. He deserved better, mostly to find something-or someone- to distract him from his duties. But he highly doubted this woman was the best choice. If she was credited for making the thrice-damned Thranduil to completely lose his head, she was not exactly suited for his lord. He needed someone to care for him and to take away some of the weight he always carried on his back. On second thought, the elf mused to himself, scratch that. He had Celebrian for that specific task, and it did not work in the end. They were together, yes, but there was no love between them, only respect. Maybe he needed something completely different now. And to lose your mind from time to time was not so bad, the blond elf reflected with a secret smile, thinking of himself more than of his friend.

To be honest, the Imladris delegation also followed the custom of another dwarf from Company. A royal habit, indeed. They lost twice in the halls of Erebor until they got to the right wing, and the dinnertime was over when they arrived, so their empty stomachs made them ask themselves if the whole situation was a good idea, after all. At last, they arrived at the Huntress door, but it was locked from the inside. They knew, however, that someone was inside because there were some dished with the remains of a recent dinner next to one of the doorposts. Elrohir found out they were still hot.

"See? I told you so. They are still here; she didn’t left with the _Smirk-wood_ king."

"Yes, but that means nothing. He has behaved like a fool again and has hurt her feelings, so she is brooding and does not want to leave her chambers "Glorfindel argued.

"And how can we know it for sure either way?" Elrohir muttered, defeated. "It's not as if we can announce ourselves..."

"We cannot," his brother whispered, "but we just have to find a servant to do it for us…"

As if he had been summoned, a dwarf crossed the hall with some dirty clothes in a basket, and all heads turned toward him. They persuaded him to knock on the door, and ask something to wash, so that the Huntress would not suspect them and open her rooms to the servant. Although the poor dwarf was very nervous about the whole situation, he did as they bid him. However, a voice from within told him to wait. For a long moment nothing happened and they held their breaths, until the door opened slightly ajar.  
The Huntress stood in the doorway, wearing only a long green silk robe –Glorfindel easily detected she had _absolutely nothing_ under it-. The dwarf, following the instructions given to him, said:

"Good evening, my lady. I'm terribly sorry, but due to the festivities today I am very late to collect the bed linen, and my master will be very upset. Do you mind to let me change the sheets? I am risking a severe punishment for a further delay."

Faced with the dilemma, the Huntress made a quick decision. The room was in disarray, but after all, Elrond was in the bathroom and the servant would not see him. There was nothing to fear.

"Come in then," she replied, "but please, do your task as fast as you could, because I want to rest."

The dwarf came in, making sure to leave the door ajar for the three conspirators to come after him. The chaos in the room did not surprise him in the least. The truth was that morning he had witnessed much worse situations. However, it seemed that the newcomers were not of his same predicament, and they could not contain an audible gasp, so the mistress turn around and discovered them. The dwarven servant quickly scurried off.

"For the Valar’s sake, what are you three doing here?" a very angry Huntress burst out "I'm tempted to drive you away with the point of my swords!"

"Cladded only in that robe?" Glorfindel added. "It will be a beautiful way to die indeed, my lady."

"I’ve had my fill of your jokes," she scolded him "Get.out.of.my.room. Period. "

"Of course, mellon nin." Elladan agreed "We were just concerned about your health. By the glow of your face, I will say it is excellent. "

"Keep your witty comments for yourself, and get out!”

The three mischief-makers quickly slipped away before the wrath of the woman reached them in full strenght. However, they had already seen everything they wanted to see. His father's clothes were all over the floor, though he was nowhere in sight. More so, the state of the bed told them all they wanted to know about their _activities_. They rejoiced, as it was their making, after all. They were static about the success of their well-concealed plan.

Back in the room, the Huntress paced back and forth, fearing the reaction of the healer, who was currently enjoying a well-earned bath and was unaware of everything that had just happened. Determined to deal with the problem directly, she entered the bathroom and walked to the tub. Gently, she stroked the hair of the waterlogged elf, and he returned the gesture, but halted when he saw her face.

"Is it something amiss, Faron? I heard you talking to someone "

"Actually, yes, it was." she sorrowfully replied, "A servant has come to change the bed linen."

"Is that so?" He asked, "It hardly seems an odd behavior."

"Indeed. The problem is he didn’t came alone into my room. Your children and your Captain were _particularly_ concerned for my well-being, and especially, for the state of the floor and the bed. "

"Oh!" The elf suddenly rose from the bathtub, wrapping himself in a robe "Are they still here?"

"No, I've chased them. I did not want them around, or I will never see the end of it. "

"Really? Well, that was close, I guess. "He answered absently, "Sorry, but I must leave immediately. I'm sure I can find an excuse for my absence. "

"An excuse," she wondered. "Elrond, have you noticed the state of my floor? Even the perfect subterfuge will never work. They knew very well what you were wearing yesterday ... "

"I must think of something..." he said as he recovered his clothes and hastily dressed.

"Wait a minute." Realization hit the Huntress’ chest like a hammer, nearly bending her in two. "You're ashamed. Of me. You despise me. You do not want anyone to know what happened between us."

"Don’t get me wrong, my lady." Said the elf, his actions in blatant contradiction with his words. "It's just ... I can’t... Their mother ..."

"Don’t bother yourself. I understand. Do not worry, I will back any excuse that you deem appropriate. " She was tense as a bowstring, her face closed, cold and distant. Her mask was dangerously close to a certain Elvenking facial expression, only her eyes sparkled with a deep sorrow.

Oblivious to her suffering, the dark-haired elf who had shared her passion only few minutes ago was now very busy trying to leave as quickly as possible. The voices inside the healer’s head returned in full strength, filling his mind. They spoke of shame, of marital vows, the shame to his family, of duty and honor. His instincts, however, told him another story entirely. They wanted him to hold her and never let her go. However, he never relied only on instinct, so he turned around, giving her a quick peck on her lips, and headed for the door. The last thing he heard before crossing her threshold was:

“I should have got used to it by now ..."

 


	32. Where someone learns that living for many years does not necessarily make you wise

After leaving her rooms in haste and roaming the halls of Erebor in search of his own quarters, and for a good justification for leaving them, Elrond was fortunate to come across Glorfindel, rather than with his children. The twins would not deter until they learn the truth of his whereabouts, but his old friend would allow him some decorum. Or at least that was what he thought.

"Glorfindel, mellon nin. I'm glad to see you. " He greeted. "Erm, that’s to say, in fact, I can very well use your help, if you are not busy."

"My lord, you know that I will do anything in my hand to help you. However, I suspect what you’re going to ask me, and I do not think it a good idea. "

"What? Did you acquire seer skills recently, my friend?"

"Nay, it comes mainly from the centuries I spent on this earth, hir vuin. _Enjoying_ some earthly pleasures, I must say. And I know a guilty expression when I see one. You are looking for a way out." the wise captain remarked "Have you done something so terrible that you must hide like a criminal?"

"The Valars help me, no! Oh, you're infuriating, Glorfindel. I can’t engage myself in such activities, not when my children are around.” The healer sighed.

"They aren’t children anymore, Elrond. And to seek a little happiness isn’t forbidden or shameful. They are grown-ups (spoiled brats, but of age), and they will not think badly of you. In fact, I think they will be very happy for you. However, they would be deeply disappointed if they saw you distressed like this. "

"Maybe you're right, but ... Must I remind you that Celebrian is not dead, just waiting for me in Valinor? I have dishonored her and the memory of our time together; I will not forgive myself in all my life. "

"You cannot be so naive, can you? There was no real love, no passion between you two, and you both knew it. Do you think Celebrian will be pleased when she finds out that you've spent all your life alone and bitter, without a spark of love in your life, letting all your duties consume you? She is a smart lady, and you know as well as I that probably she will probably hit you in the head for being so stubborn. "

"Yes, the chances are very high for that to happen. The twins have taken their character from someone, not me. Maybe you're right and I'm wrong, but if so, I can see my path no more "

"Yet, it runs straight forward, under your feet. In these matters, hir vuin, there is no clear answer. But you may have to apologize, it seems. Loud and for a long time, I daresay.” the blond elf stated sarcastically.

After this exchange, doubt plagued Elrond’s mind. He was starting to think he had not acted wisely, and felt he had made an unforgivable mistake. Moreover, time was not on his side, as night has fallen, and he spent the most of it awake. Finally, he decided that in the morning, he would look for the woman and apologize, so maybe he could fix things. He really wanted to see her, as he realized no one for a long, long time had made him feel like that.

Unfortunately, next morning the Huntress was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the elf delegation began to notice suspicious glances directed to them, especially from the dwarven crafts guilds. Surprised, Elrond decided to ask the hobbit about this sudden change of demeanor. The little one fidgeted uncomfortably, coughed and even blushed slightly, before explaining:

"Emm, you see, my lord. The fact is that dwarves love gossip as much or more than the other races. After last sunrise there is a talk, a rumor that runs everywhere in the Mountain. The Huntress called yesterday for Dori, the Guild Master, a member of our Company, and is staying at his home since."

"She has moved in with a dwarf? What is the meaning of that? "The elf asked, slightly jealous.

"Well, it's a complex matter, but I’ll try to explain. All dwarves of Erebor know Dori. He has two brothers, Nori and Ori, and he raised them alone. That has given him a special sensibility, and is, how do you say it? He is a mother hen. There is only one reason someone would ask Dori to look after him. That motive is a very serious matter for the dwarven race, which is as you well know, rather narrow-minded. As thick as the stone they were made from, one would say. Hence the hostile stares and whispers I certainly hope would not reach the ears of the king." Bilbo explained.

"What reason? What has the king to do with this matter? I'm afraid I do not follow you, Master Baggins."

"I’m afraid there is only one reason anyone will seek Dori’s care." Bilbo repeated, as if he had not heard the elf speaking. "A broken heart. And that's something the dwarves can empathize with, as they only fall in love once in their lifetime."

"Oh. I see. And will you happen to know where I can find this Guilds Master you told me about "

"If I’m getting it straight, they won’t let you approach even the closest level to her current location, let alone talk to Dori. See, he has not been promoted to his job just because his good looks. Dori is the strongest dwarf in Erebor, and all dwarves respect him. Half of the Mountain will do what he says. And I guess he wants you gone as soon as possible. Sorry to be the herald of such bad news."

"Don’t worry, Master Hobbit. At least, you have helped me to understand. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to plan." With a sigh, Elrond went back to his quarters. He had much to ponder, and little time.

 


	33. The next best to ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I am sorry, I had that weird thought that the next best thing to have a big bowl of chocolate Haagen Dazs ice cream in Erebor will be a great cup of aromatic tea served by our dear Dori).

At one of the Erebor market’s many shops, maybe not the busiest, but by far the cleanest, Dori was busy sampling some tea blends his employee offered to him in order to determine what he deemed appropriate. He didn’t know the Huntress for a long time, true, but when the girl had knocked at his door that night, her proud cheeks stained with tears, he had not had a second thought. He didn’t know what had happened, but he suspected it might be something serious, if I could put a warrior like her in such a state of helplessness. So he had surrounded her with the softest blanket he could find –he had weaved it himself- and had her well wrapped into it, then proceed to lead her to one of the main viewpoints of the mountain, sure he would find there the next day. He was not wrong, she was still there, eyes rimmed with red and still shedding tears, staring into the horizon. The dwarf quietly took her arm and forced her to eat some breakfast, because he was afraid she had spent a long time without eating anything, judging by her general state of exhaustion. He later joined her at the table, bringing her a book she barely touched. The dwarf didn’t uttered a single word, and resumed knitting while she was deeply lost in thoughts, growing an increasingly scowl until it was clear for his companion that he must intrude or they certainly would be drowned by a flood of tears.

"I have some new teas recently delivered to my shop, my lady. You have visited many places in Middle-earth, perhaps would you grant me the honor to sample them and tell me your honest opinion?" He mentioned quietly.

The Huntress rose without a sound, and she patiently waited for him to finish and let herself be lead to the shop. Dori was the owner, but he could not run it himself since his position as Guilds Master spent most of his time. However, he had always found pleasure in a cup of tea, and hoped his small stall in the market would contribute to bring his passion to his other peers in the Mountain. Therefore, there they were, a sorrowful Huntress and a lost dwarf, the latter looking for a concoction that could comfort her and calm her nerves.

"Marjoram, marshmallow, licorice ..." he mumbled "I do not know if this will work. Glick, at last, be a dear and put it in the pot and Mahal help you if you don’t boil the water properly" he threatened his employee.

Several minutes later, two steaming kettles were placed in front of each of our two protagonists, who had not yet crossed more words than necessary. Dori served his tisane to the Huntress, hoping to help her in her distress, whatever it was. He also took a cup, and savored the mixture with satisfaction. It was really good, and licorice helped to a balanced mix. His brother Ori loved the taste of licorice, and when he was still small, he used to run around the house savoring a licorice stick. Lost in these souvenirs, the dwarf did not realize that she had begun talking, but he quickly recovered and listened intently.

"... Like the first time it happens. But for me it did. It was the first time. There is a reason that my race avoid those feelings. They wrecked us. Just a damn word from his mouth and it was as if Mahal had used his hammer to shutter my soul into pieces. That damn elf and his ways. At least Thranduil was clear in what he wanted from me ..." Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, the Huntress flushed. "Oh, forgive my bluntness, master dwarf, but I thought the whole Company was aware of my affair."

"And we were," the aforementioned stated "But a gentledwarf does not discuss of such matters. So, my dear child, a pointy-eared has broken your heart for the first time. I'm terribly sorry, I know that it hurts. You can count on my help in any way I can provide it. We are all indebted to you and your father for coming to our aid."

"Anyway," he continued, "I am very, very angry. This…. This tree-… lover must have acted honourabily towards you, and not playing with your feelings. If rumors from the guards are true, he was the one who kissed you on the parapet?"

"You are right." She nodded, already mourning that glorious moment when she feel like flying in his powerful arms.

"That is not right. Any self-respecting gentleman does not offer such advances to a woman if he is not serious about them. Someone should make it clear to those elves they may not behave with that lack of decorum in this Mountain. This is a disgrace, in times of the older kings it would not happen, those pointy ears would not have dared to lay eyes on someone of your state... "

Smiling sadly at the torrent of words and old-fashioned statements, the Huntress turned to drink her herbal tea. It was very nice and settled her stomach giving her some warmth that distracted her from the hurt on her chest. She was sure that the still growling dwarf was going to care for her until all the pain would be erased, and became just a little stinging memory. She must also talk to Bilbo, sweet and dear Bilbo, although that would distract him from the cloud of happiness in which he was currently living. Well, not a cloud, but the King Under the Mountain’s quarters, as was the talk all around Erebor.

"Master Dori," she softly interrupted the complaints "I know you have already done a lot for me, but could I ask you for one more thing?"

"Of course, my dear, I will do my best to help you, as I have already stated."

"Whatever it happens, whatever he says, do not let him come close to me. I don’t want to see him, I could not stand it. If I meet him, all my resolve will falter, and I will fall again. "

"Oh, of course. Rest assured, this particular elf and his delegation will exit this Mountain, by Mahal’s beard. I will see to it. Now finish your tea and then we will visit the library. Ori will certainly not mind you to stay there for a while. And you can trust my brother won’t let anyone unwelcome cross the door of _his_ beloved library. "


	34. Where things are twisted as iron in the forge

"Let me see if I got it straight, master Dori. Do you really expect me to expel someone to whom I owe my life from my kingdom just because he betrayed a lass? A woman whose last known relationship was with that Valar-damned tree-shagger Thranduil? If her taste in males is anything to go by, she should be used to this behavior... "said the King Under the Mountain, in what might be qualified as the strangest audience he had had since the start of his reign.

"Actually, you are quoting her words. But it's not how I see it. How will you react if this had happened to one of your kin? If someone had made false promises and deceived your sister, then he had left her alone? "

"I would shave every hair of his body with my axe" Thorin conceded.

"Well, she is not of our family, that's right. Not even entirely from our race. But she protected us, and she is Dain’s little girl, for Mahal’s sake. That should mean something. Besides, I am not asking you for a punishment, or even that you do not allow them to return. I will only suggest that their stay would not be extended, and that they must return to their duties." The Guilds Master stubbornly stood his ground.

"I don’t agree.” said Bilbo from the seat at the right of the king, a place he had not left since the blessed coronation night. "I do not think the king has to interfere in a private matter. This is nothing more than a colossal misunderstanding to me, who must be solved between both sides "  
"If you think I'll let those pointed ears to approach a thousand meters of the poor child, you are sorely mistaken, halfling." Dori threatened.

"Enough! I hope for the sake of your head, and its permanence on your shoulders, you won’t address _ever_ so disrespectfully to my future consort, master. I understand you anger, and it's very natural, but I expect an apology. "

"Of course, Your Majesty, that has been out of place, especially in the Court Room. I apologize, Mr. Baggins. You know that I deeply appreciate you; it's just that the poor girl’s state distress me." Dori said, head down in shame.

At the mention of "future consort," the hobbit was red as the best-prized Gamgee’s tomatoes, but was also secretly flatted. Moreover,he had not taken offence on Dori’s comment, so he replied:

"Of course, I understand. No harm done, but let me try to fix this my way. You know that there is no one who cares for the Huntress like me, she's my friend, after all. Perhaps there is some way out for this unfortunate incident. "

"It's okay. If you wish to talk to her, she is in the library with Ori. "

"Okay, maybe I will go to it. My king, do you mind if I retire to address these issues? " He addressed Thorin and respectfully bowed his head.  
Much in the same way that Bilbo when he was called as "consort", for Thorin, Bilbo addressing him as "my king" was making is head spin like a fine wine. Lost in thoughts, he nodded to his beloved, thinking that the audience was not too bad after all.

Instead of what he told Dori, the hobbit went as fast as he could to the lord of Imladris’ quarters, where he met an angry Balrog-killer mumbling between his teeth: "They have no respect, curse the dwarven stubbornness. To look at my lord that way, and not let him pass. He, who has saved the life of that excuse of King they have ... "

"My lord Glorfindel." Bilbo greeted, feigning he had heard nothing "Is something amiss?"

"You are right, Master hobbytla. Apparently, we are not allowed to move freely through the Mountain. Today we have barred the passage twice for my lord Elrond, and people are acting in a strange way ... "

"Do not worry, my lord." He interrupted, "I'm here to see if I can fix it."

“May the Valar help you, it is not an easy task. The dwarfs are obstinate, but even they cannot rival the stubbornness of Elrond Peredhel. And he has locked himself there for a while." Hissed the blond elf, pointing to the door with a gesture.

Without hesitation, the hobbit knocked at the door and entered the antechamber. Facing him was the elven lord, with his hands on his temples and an expression of deep distress in his fair face. Looking up, he gestured for him to sit down and questioned him with his eyes, asking why he was there.

"My lord Elrond. Excuse me to interrupt your, ah ... meditation, but I have heard some rumors I cannot believe, and that surprised me greatly." He commented gently.

"Always so polite, Mr. Baggins. And what, pray tell me, are these stories about?"

"The whole Mountain says have you have, well, left a little roughly a very beloved friend of mine. However, as a friend of yours also, I am here to ask you if there is any chance all this would have been a big misunderstanding. "

"It is your right to ask. But I am not compelled to answer you. I guess after that, you will tell me very kindly that my presence in Erebor is not necessary any more, and will be a burden, and that it would be best to arrange things for my return. Spare me. You don’t have to worry about that, I have already given orders to pack. We leave tomorrow morning, I will not disturb the life of anyone _else_. "

Given the surprising answer, the hobbit suddenly fell silent. There was little he could do, and he suspected that this whole affair was just fueling the insecurity of the elven healer, while he allowed himself a dignified exit that did not involve pondering his true feelings for the woman who currently languished in the library.

"And you will part from us in anger, without even a proper goodbye?" He asked. "I would hate to think you will resent us. I, for myself, will be forever in debt with you for coming to our aid and nursing our king back to health.”

"I’m sorry, my dear Mr. Baggins. Where are my manners? Please, may you ask your king if we can dine at your table tonight to say goodbye properly? "Elrond replied, shaking his head.

"Of course, rest assured. We will wait for you tonight in the Great Hall. Rest until then. "Bilbo told him.

A sudden inspiration guided his steps to the library, where he knew Ori hid the Huntress from the attempts of the elven delegation to talk to her. Not only Elrond, but also the twins and Glorfindel had pleaded before the young dwarf without success. The excuse was that _they were doing an inventory of Khuzdul tomes, and no one but dwarves could enter_. This deeply saddened the Elven brothers, who felt they had lost a good friend, although they had known her for little time. They have tried to play matchmakers, and it had all gone wrong. For his part, the blonde captain was beginning to think that his master had an unusually cowardly behavior towards the woman.

Against all odds, the hobbit did not find any problems entering the library. Ori chatted for a while with him about a translation he was doing, and pointed him to a particular shelf, where a chair was partially hidden. He headed toward it, only to find a faded Huntress, affected by the crying and the lack of sleep, immersed in reading a tome on myths and legends. Sighing, he approached a chair and waved. She looked at him realizing he had come to see her, and replied with a soft negative nod. She would not talk. Nevertheless, the hobbit would not give up, he only said three words before turning around to leave her alone:

"They are leaving."

Oblivious to the strangled cry he heard behind him after his words, the hobbit walked out. He headed to the royal wing. After so much sadness and drama, he needed Thorin desesperately. He still could not believe that after so much devastation there was happiness for him in the strong embrace of a blacksmith turned ruler of his kin. Against all odds, he was, and there was no place he would rather be. When the dwarf king saw him enter his office, he immediately identified his miserable gesture and approached him to surround him in a tight embrace that shortly drove all his frustrations away.

Meanwhile, in the library, the hobbit had consciously left the Huntress’ soul bare, forcing her to make a decision. She would finish her seclusion to deal with whatever the elf lord had to say, or she would let him go –and let him brought her heart with him-. Teeth gritted, she wiped her eyes and clenched his fists. She was a warrior, damn it, and she could not behave like a mouse. She would hide no more. If there was shame for her, so be it, but she would not be cowed. Her mother had raised her free and proud, and so would she stood. No elf on Middle Earth will let her down. After a long, refreshing bath, she put on her pants and her soft leather jerkin, watching with infinite sadness the beautiful red silk dress in her drawer. Then, she headed as usual to the kitchen to help them bring the trays and dished to the Great Hall before the dinner bell rang.

Some looks of pity welcomed her, and the cook gave her a cheese pie, her favorite, saying nothing. She ate in silence, drinking a light mead, and got her ready to help. Working is good, she said to herself, it does not allow you to think about other things. However, she was very wrong, as usual.


	35. Friendship matters

Travelling to and from the kitchen with large pots of food, the Huntress did not realize that the Great Hall was bursting with people as usual. The king's table was ready as if to greet some ambassador, although news of such an event had not reached her in her seclusion. However, she dismissed those thoughts from her head for the more immediate task of serving some food to the miners in the nearest table. However, these workers started behaving in a very odd way, casting threatening glances at the main table, as if they were unhappy with their King. She knew it was not possible, since they worshiped the ground that Thorin Oakenshield stepped on, and had even welcome his recent relationship with his Burglar. The little hobbit was showered everywhere with tokens and gestures of respect, even if he wasn’t from their race, and he was overjoyed.  
  
Some of them were even muttering, "The gall of them all...". Restless, the Huntress looked the main table and her heart stopped in her chest. There, with the saddest look anyone could have, was the lord of Imladris, flanked by his children, both of them sporting identical postures of defeat, beside an angry Glorfindel, who looked as he was wishing to throttle each miner with his hands, until he met her eyes by chance and his widened in surprise. Quickly, he prevented the twins of her presence; both smiled with relief and excused themselves from the table to go directly to her. They failed to get there, because a living wall of dwarves prevented them to reach for the woman. The tension sizzled in the air, until the dwarves reluctantly parted to let her pass and reach for her elven friends.

"Dorok, gazam." He said around him. "It is my decision. Respect it."  
  
With determination, she put her arms around both of them, who were crumbled into expressions of deep regret that she could not understand at all, muttering about a plan that had not gone as expected.  
  
"What are you talking about?" she said, puzzled. "You have nothing to do with what happened to me. I wanted to say goodbye to you, but I was a coward, forgive me. I still hope that you consider me a friend. May you had all the happiness you two deserve. Elen sila lúmenn 'omentielvo. I will not forget you. Namárië! "  
  
"No, no, no ..." Elladan moaned. "Please, Faron, don’t go. Not like this. Talk to him, I beg you. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t eat. I implore you, do not add salt to the wounds he inflicted himself. "  
  
"Ai, mellon nin. And what about mine’s? "She said, tears in her eyes. "It was not me who sent him away in shame. From those wounds I won’t ever recover. "  
  
"Please ..." the young elf pleaded.  
  
"Well, you win. But know I do it for you two, and I hope you do not put high hopes on it. I do not think that will change anything. "She sighed.  
  
"Oh, you have a big heart, my dear friend!" Elrohir said. "I'll tell Ada to wait for you in our quarters."  
  
"No!" She interrupted. "Tell him to come out the gates of Erebor. I cannot have this talk underground. " 'There's nowhere to run' she added to herself.

"Okay. As you wish, Faron. We are forever in your debt, and if we do not see each other, that the Valar guide your steps wherever you go. "Elladan replied.  
  
Immediately both elves returned to the table, where they held a short argument with his father, who looked in her direction and made a nod as a sign that he acquiesced to her terms. A shiver ran down her spine, anticipating their dreaded encounter, but she knew she could not avoid it any longer, so she turned to return the pots to the kitchen and headed towards the gates. Her legs barely held her, and her inner self screamed to run and never look back. She straightens and muttered ‘I’m not a coward’. Like an omen, when she reached the gate a thunder crashed, anticipating a storm, and the guard in service told her: "Do not linger out for a long time, my lady. A huge storm is coming, and you would not like to be outdoors. "

 However, in her current state she would gladly welcome a little rain to wash her concerns away. While she was waiting, she saw the storm brewing, grey clouds on the horizon, and oxygen-laden air. Fear overtook her and she felt the raw need of open air. Although she had friends inside the Mountain, she knew she should leave soon, or the last sheds of her sanity would be gone. She needed to feel herself in tune with nature again, like when she used to walk the paths of Middle-Earth without burdens to weight on her. Lost in these thoughts, she hardly realized she was not alone. Indeed, the lord of Imladris had come to meet her, and was silent at her side, hands cross at his back and a sad expression on his face. At least he didn’t put on an cold mask like Thranduil, she thought briefly.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorok: peace  
> Gazam: people  
> (source: https://www.lotro.com/forums/showthread.php?390991-Thramili-s-Khuzdul-Dictionary%28revisited%29)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Love you all :-)


	36. The storm (part I)

Judging by the amount of thunder and lightning, the storm was coming fast, and they had not even uttered a word. She looked into his eyes, seeking there the answer to the question that gnawed at his heart, and hoping he could read on her own everything that tormented him. She wanted to scream, to hit him or shake him and ask him why, but she felt she had no right to it. She was but a simple mortal, faced with a being who had walked for centuries under the same sun, who had lived many lives before meeting her. Surely she had not been more than a little pebble thrown into the flow of his existence, unable to get nothing but some little ripples in the surface. Unfortunately for her, those sad grey eyes had turned her life upside down for having let her guard down. She had handed her heart for the first time of her long life, only to had it thrown to the dirt.  
For his part, the Elf lord believed his actions were unforgivable. He had behaved with this incredible creature as she was unworthy, as she was but a nuisance. The most precious thing he had found in so long, and he got rid of her without a second thought. He was sorry beyond words, he was unable to express how much he regretted it, and she was in her right to not want to speak to him ever again. How she had agreed to meet him at the gates was beyond his understanding, he suspected his sons to have a hand on this.

A thunder crashed so close that the woman was startled, and her body shivered involuntarily, as if anticipating something she could not see. Unable to bear the tension for a moment longer, she withdrew from the shelter offered by the mountainside and faced up the first drops of rain. When the rain started to pour, she could not help herself, and opened her arms widely, getting completely soaked, but willing to let the water wash away all the pain, that grey stare piercing her soul, the taste of his kisses, the smell of his skin, the impossible soft ebony hair. It was a deserved punishment, she thought. The Valar had a curious way of getting back at her. Her locks were glued to her face, and her tears mingled with the water running down her face.

Elrond was dumbstruck. In that very moment, the Huntress was more beautiful than ever, amid the wild nature unleashed, like a tree in the middle of a stream. In a flash, he recalled a phrase she had said to him long ago 'Sometimes I feel like a plant that someone forgot to water.' Unable to fight the feelings that burst into his chest, the elf walked in the rain to her silhouette, who was dancing softly under the overcast sky in her ruined clothes and muddy boots. He took her in his arms and found no resistance when he kissed her eyelids, her rosy cheeks and her salty mouth. Although he received no response, no movement beyond the slight shivering due to the cold rain.

"Look at me." He asked, but she kept her eyelids painfully closed. "Please, look at me." He repeated, taking her face gently in his hands, but got no answer. "Open your eyes." He pleaded unsuccessfully. Defeated, he dropped to his knees, letting the mud soak his robes, and he looked at his wet hands as if he could find an answer there, as if he had the power to stop something invisible to slip through his fingers. His ring shone with a pale glow on the water. Suddenly, he recalled how it had reacted to their embrace up there in the battlements, and he understood.

"Forgive me, I beg you. Have mercy of my madness. Have mercy for someone who does not listen to his heart. I’m not used to have feelings, I was willing to spend the rest of my life alone. And then you came. And I didn’t know how to react. Forgive me. "

He dipped his hands in the mud, knowing he had little chance of getting to her. The water trickled over his hair, who fell around his face, hiding the pain. Long minutes passed until a hand appeared at his side urging him to get up. The Huntress’ eyes were open and staring at him. There was no hatred or bitterness in them, he saw rather ...

Clouds swirled, black and threatening, heaven sent floods of water to the Lonely Mountain side and lightning lit up ominously. But from the gates a whirlwind grew up, like a wild tornado, which turned and turned to create a true column facing the rocks, visible to anyone who was watching the storm. In the nearby city of Dale and even in the confines of Mirkwood Forest, people wondered about the strange phenomenon. The sentries on the Mountains, deeply alarmed, warned their guests of the unusual twister. The king ordered the guards to take refuge inside and bolt the doors, but the elven twins recalled that his father was at the storm mercy, and decided to look over the parapet. The tempest they watched was oddly familiar them, but they couldn’t pick exactly why, until Glorfindel approached them and whispered. "Vilya"

Meanwhile, in the center of said whirlwind two figures melted into an embrace, devouring each other mouth. They were oblivious of the rain and the storm that surrounded them, and rather merged with the storm, until they could not separate the sound of the thunder of their own beating heart.


	37. The storm (part II)

The power of the ring unleashed the storm, so that Elrond and the Huntress were just in the eye of the hurricane, but the weather was becoming dangerous for those who were on the parapets. Therefore, the accesses were closed and the guards withdrew looking for drier places to stay, forgetting the two persons who were left outside. Not that they cared, really, they were too _distracted_ to notice. Their actions had a reflection in the stormy weather, as if some ancient magic was performing. Thus, the Huntress’ first moan resulted in a blinding flash, and the corresponding elven grunt of appreciation was perfectly synchronized with the thunder heard afterwards. After being so long under the rain, the both of their clothes were so soaked that were unnecessary, and they could feel the other’s skin underneath the fabric. Once they had _properly_ explored this circumstance, they realized the impossibility to continue their activities, or they would turn the rain in a dangerous flood.

Both were aware of the connection between their actions and the climate, so they tried everything, caressing, nibbling greedily, scratching and tempting each other, observing what kind of phenomenon they could bring on. Therefore, the air filled with lightning, groans, wind, moans, sights and rain. They became one with nature, and if they continued in this way, the storm would turn so powerful it would ruin the mountainside. But there was no coming back, immersed as they were in each other. So they just let their instincts take the lead in a wild dance under the weather. The Huntress quivered and moaned uncontrollably, while the elf had her blocked against the cold and slippery stonewall, and he had never felt so alive. Soon they reached their mutual peak, howling against the wind that slammed into the Mountain.

If they continued, the storm threatened to pierce the very gates of Erebor, a masterpiece of dwarven engineering. It was the first time in his long life that Elrond had left the powers of the ring roam free, since he had only used his skills when they were required to heal. But now his feelings were channeled through it, and a window opened on his mind never to close again.

When all was over, he felt oddly free, so he took the Huntress in his arms, and she climbed to him like a vine. He went to the side door, but had to knock several times until a dazed guard realized that there was someone out there, and let them in, bursting into apologies and bows. Elrond assured him that it was not his fault, and when he managed to calm him, he withdrew, leaving a trail of water that led directly to his chambers. There, with a wave of his hand he dismissed the amazed servants and shut himself up with his precious cargo. The storm had relented, although rain was still falling, but with a different, soft and sweet cadence now, as if trying to soften its behavior and to excuse the violence moments before.

The two lovers were soaked and exhausted, besides beginning to feel the mountain cold in their bones. The best solution, the wise healer decided, was hot water, if for some mercy of the Valar he managed to have enough strength left to get rid of their clothes and take the woman to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. She buried his face in the hollow of her neck, and her breath gave him goosebumps. Hoping to found a more comfortable surrounding, he took off the remains of muddy clothes and boots, and carefully immersed her in the warm water haven. She uttered a faint moan of satisfaction and gestured for him to join. Therefore, the elf discarded his own robes, the velvet ruined and waterlogged, and slid across the tub. She made a noise of disapproval, but she seemed too tired for polite conversation so she moved to place her head on his chest, covering him like a blanket. The elf settled his arms on the edge of the bathtub, then a deep slumber catched him, so both dozed for a while.

When the water became a little cold, the Huntress stirred, and she felt renewed and refreshed. A sudden outburst of tenderness made her kiss his partner on the forehead, and she whispered softly:

"Âmralimê ..." However, she commented a little louder, in order to wake him:

"Wake up, hir Elrond. The bath cools down, and I will not have you sick. Healers are the worst patients, they say, and I would rather not find out why."

"Mmmmhh? 'Quel andune, Faron. What a wonderful way to wake up. "

"Is that so? You're really a strange elf, Elrond of Rivendell. Then, what will you say when we actually share a bed? "

The elf blushed perceptibly, imagining the situation, but gathered his wits to answer:

" _That_ would leave me speechless, believe me. But if you want to give a try ... "

"I've never been afraid of challenges. Although it has yet to see the day when the wise lord of Imladris is left wordless."

"There's always a first time ..." he joked, handing her a towel and heading to the room to find a tunic and trousers. However, he stopped short noticing that her clothes wouldn’t be of use again. He decided to find something suitable for her on his chest, and as he did, he reveled in the intimacy of the gesture. He was alone with her, she was in the bathroom and he was going to dress her in his clothes, after having undress and taste her in the storm. The Valar were smiling at him, after all.

 


	38. Blessed

Meanwhile, not far from there, in fact, in the nearby antechamber, the twins were trying to find out what the puddle of water that ran through the hall to that very same place was about.

"Probably the dwarven brothers want to prank us. Will they mean for us to slip and to crack our skull?" Elrohir wondered.

"I do not think this is a well-planed joke, and those mischief-makers are the very best. For me, it has something to do with the sudden disappearance of our _ada_ and that bizarre storm."

"What do you mean, ‘Dan?"

"When Glorfindel said it was the power of his ring, I thought he was so angry, to unleash such a storm. Now I'm not so sure, but there is no way to find out. I think he has probably fought with Faron and he has locked himself in his chambers to brood, hence the water. "

"In any case, we have lost a friend. Things between two people cannot be forced, I’m afraid."

"Your statement is so settled that you frighten me, ‘Ro "

"Don’t get used to it ..."

Something cut the elf’s speech short, and he stared eyes wide. Indeed, the door of his father’s room opened to show a smiling Elrond, who had his head turned inward. 'This is ridiculous' they heard from inside the chamber.  
"Come on," the lord of Imladris encouraged, without being aware of the presence of his offspring. "You have to get out of there at some point..." and offered his hand. With a short tug, he exposed the other occupant of the room. Her cheeks were glowing crimson red, because she was dressed in a long robe that was huge for her. Her slender figure did not fit at all to the broad shoulders of the owner of that suit. She had tried to fix it putting a belt around her waist, but it only helped to make the scene more laughable, as if a child had put on her father's clothes.

"Ai, mellon nin, I'm ridiculous. I cannot go down to my rooms dressed like this."

"Well, you must, unless you want to parade yourself in your underwear through the halls of Erebor. While I'm sure that Thorin Oakenshield will not spare a second glance if a certain Mr. Baggins is near."

"Eh! Stop it. Irony is part of _my_ charming self. Healing is part of yours.”

The elf turned his face with a sudden laugh, only to find two pairs of wide open, very _familiar_ eyes.  
"E ... lladan! Elrohir! Are ... What are you doing here?" Their embarrassed father stuttered.  
With an identical grin that did not herald anything good, the twins looked up and down his father, only to answer:

"The truth is, dearest _ada_ ..."

"...that unless you've forgotten, this is also our waiting room ..."

"And we could ask you the same thing ..."

"... Although we won’t. We must go and tell Glorfindel to unpack our things. "

"He was in such a rush. He may be very, very angry ... "

"... A lot, 'Ro, a lot. We will tell him that was our dearest _ada’s_ idea, after all.”

With a wink addressed to her friend, who was embarrassed beyond measure, the two schemers went out the door with the smile of the cat who ate the cream.

"Mahal's beard, this is no good! No good at all!" She growled, burying her head in her hands in despair. "I’m never going to hear the end of it. And I still have to walk around a Mountain full of _dwarves_ with this garb… "  
"There is something we can do." the elf said with a rare smile. "You can made _me_ and _them_ speechless at the same time.”

"What? Valar help me, Elrond, but I really do not understand what you mean."

"Actually, you do not have to get your things _yourself_. Let me call for a servant, and he will bring all your stuff here. Then you could see if sharing a bed with me will leave me without words. By the way, you could be sure _that situation_ will rend that pair of busybodies I have for children speechless. See? Only advantages..."

The Huntress, dumbfounded, could not believe what she had just heard. The lord of Imladris, so righteous, so old-fashioned he was willing to let her go, was now asking her to move into his rooms? Surely she had misunderstood, but when he glanced to her half nervous, half hopeful; she realized he really meant it, that he wanted to share his bed with her, and he did not care what the rest of the mountain or his household would thing. Her heart almost came out of her chest as she realized it, and joy as she had not felt in a long time settled in her soul. Therefore, she could only nod at the idea, and let the elven lord call for one of his assistants to give adequate instructions while she was still trying to adjust to the new situation.

Making the best of it, when they were left alone again, she found her voice to say, with a mischievous smile dancing in her eyes:

"In that case, my lord Elrond, I guess I'll no longer need these clothes, as they are going to bring my wardrobe here. Perhaps you could help me to get rid of them..."

His gaze turned graphite with lust, and with a quick gesture he brought her body to him, and carry her back into his bed. When the servant returned, he had to leave the Huntress’ trunk outside, as the door was closed and most disturbing sounds were coming from it.


	39. Love and duty

After their sudden reconciliation, Dori could no longer continue his scowl fight towards Imladris. Bilbo allowed himself to utter a "I told you so" every time he passed by the dwarf, but in truth, he was truly pleased. It was quite a sight to see the usually emotionless healer revert to an adolescent elfling -if that was physically possible for an Eldar-. In some cases, he had proved to be even worse than his twins, as when the Huntress and him ran from the Mountain, summoning the deluge, only to return covered in mud and Mahal know what else tangled in their hair, bearing a sated smile that left little doubt about their _activities_.

However, after a few days it became painfully clear that he had to leave soon. His duties as the lord of the Last Homely House could not be delayed further, even for a pretty face. Sensing that, he fell into deep thoughts about his next move. He could ask the Huntress to return with him, but he did not know if she would accept. Somehow, he doubted she could adapt to the calm life of the valley. Although he did not know if he, himself, could be the same who left many moons ago. The world was changing, something terrible was coming over the horizon and the lives of them all, Eldar, Men and Dwarves were in jeopardy. If his Seer told him true, he wanted the darkness to find him beside her, back to back, with their swords raised and ready to fight. And they might even win.

Therefore, he would gather his courage and talk to her, but in truth, the prospect unnerved him a little. It was easy to wake beside her in the morning in a mountain full of dwarves, but it would be difficult to face the disapproval he would surely receive from his own race. In addition, there was the little detail of the journey back home. Diplomacy demanded that when he returned, the lord of Imladris visited the other two elven kingdoms. Where two ancient beings ruled: the Huntress ex-lover, and his own mother-in-law, probably the most powerful elf on Middle-Earth. There were high chances of ending up in a dungeon, or unchaining a kinslaying. Apparently, Glorfindel must be on the same line of thoughts, because he looked worried at him from a chair with a drink in his hand, and offered him some advice:

"Mellon nîn, what you’re planning is almost worse than facing a Balrog. We must return, and you must fulfill your duties. Maybe you could summon her later ... "

"…and become a hypocrite of the worst kind, Glorfindel. It was the reason why I almost lost her once; I will not repeat the same mistake. If I'm going to ask her to come with me, I must face the consequences, and may the Valar protect us all, because we will need it. "

"If you get to ask her, and she agrees, I want to be in the first row when you enter Mirkwood. Thranduil's face will be priceless... Though I hope to get out of there alive. "

"Glorfindel, don’t mess with ada. He has enough problems already." came the surprising help of Elladan. "We think it's great that she will come with us, you don’t need to be scared by grandmother. We will convince her, you know she cannot deny us anything."

"Are you sure? I think she'll want to strangle me with her bare hands. Do not forget that she shares the line of Fëanor.”

"Stop. What can’t be changed ... Moreover, she probably have seen you two in her mirror, so you best face it.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through them all, thinking about what the powerful Golden lady could have seen, and how she would retaliate. But that would come later. By now, he had to talk to another woman, much less intimidating than Galadriel, but no less dangerous. And with his crazy dwarven father. Suddenly the elf covered his eyes in despair. The day was going to be very long, indeed.

In the end, to convince Dain was the easiest of the whole ordeal. He sat him in front of a good pint of beer, and he commented delicately that the delegation of Rivendell had lingered for a long time on the Mountain, and the smart dwarf said:

"Yeah, I know the tune. My cousin is healed, the alliances are secured, Erebor will resist any darkness that comes from the North, and you're looking forward to return to your peaceful haven near the ports; where there are no noisy dwarves who disturb star gazing, or whatever you do in your spare time. But you do not know how to persuade _her_ , right? Good luck with that. "

"Um, my lord Dain, so I'm here today to ask ..."

"Spare me your polite ways, master Elf. I will kindly remind you that you will _not_ deal with her mother when she discovers that her dearest daughter may never return. That woman will be the death of me. So follow my advice and ask her as soon as possible. If she finds you have spoken to me before, there will be hell to pay. Be honest. It worked for me."

The elf suddenly paled and realized his huge miscalculation. He nodded and went in search for the Huntress around the Mountain. Finally, he found she was not inside, but outside, in the bankside where they had been the first time they exited from Erebor.

Sighing for himself, the elf went to her, stretching her in his arms from behind and placing a soft kiss on her neck.

"Aur vaer, Faron. You're very hard to find ... "

"So maybe you must stay closer to me then, Elrond. It looks like something's bothering you, what happens? "

"You see, my dear, the fact is that I have something to tell you. I have been thinking for a long time about it, and the more I think, the clearer I see it. I know it will be difficult, and I have no right to ask you for such a thing, but I’ll do it anyway. You have every right to say no, and will not bother you, we will both continue our lives as if nothing had happened, and no one will think less of you for it ... "

"Elrond, stop it, please!" She interrupted him, "You're scaring me. Do you realize that I still don’t know what you want to talk me about? "

“Umm, yes, my lady. Pray excuse me." He remarked, returning to a formal talk.

"And now you talk to me like a fucking diplomat. Could you please explain to me what happens? "

"Ai, woman, I’m trying. Just let me. By the Valar, I've only seen such eagerness in the twins. I mean, what I wanted to tell you, if you let me speak, is that we have been here for a long time, and my land needs me to return. Therefore, I am arranging my departure. But I will rather not leave without you. So, Selene, also known as Faron, would you go to Imladris with me and be my guest there? "

"Your guest?" Asked the Huntress "What do you mean by 'your guest'?"

"It means I want you to stay with me. Forever, if I might say so. Or until you’ll have me, it's up to you. However, I cannot make an honorable offer, but ... "

"I do not care for proper things, Elrond of Rivendell. Neither my mother nor my sisters are married, if that’s what you mean so poetically. You really have a way with words, and I thank you to give me the choice. For that alone I would go with you, but there are many more reasons. Someday, when you’ll show me your home, I will tell you all of them."

"Really? it means a lot for me, melleth nin. My heart rejoices, and I can't wait to show you my home. But I'm afraid the road back will not be easy, not because of orcs raids -we are skilled warriors, after all- but due to my duty to the other elven realms of Middle Earth. I must pay my respects on my way back, least I'll risk a diplomatic incident."

"Ai, mellon nin. Are you implying what I think you are?" the Huntress asked." Does it means I'll have to face the Elvenking again, in his own realm, no less? I do not know if you're aware, hir vuin, but technically I am still a prisoner of Mirkwood. And I have no intention of returning to the dungeons, if I can avoid it."

"Me neither, especially after what happened down there..." The elf grimly replied.

"You know? How?"

“The heirs of Erebor are not graced with subtlety, nor are my children known for their quiet voice when discussing –or rather gossiping-. So you must know a visit to his kingdom doesn’t make me particularly at ease, taking into account your previous relationship with _that_ elf, and how much he will enjoy reminding me _each_ detail of your last stay there. But I don’t care. It's a price I'm willing to pay, if it means having you by my side, no matter the circumstances. Although this is not even remotely the most uncomfortable visit ... We must also stay in Lothlorien. "

"Mahal’s mighty hammer and anvil, you cannot be serious. You want me to meet the Lady of Lorien? "

" _Want_ and _have to_ are very different terms, Faron. And if my foresight is true, Imladris will soon need the support of the lady Galadriel. In any case, she will already be aware of the latest events. She has always known those things beforehand."

"You ask a lot for me, Elrond. I’m not very diplomatic, nor will I stand her disdain." She sighed.

"I know, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved... but I had to try. I could not bear the thought of leaving like a thief, hiding in the shadows, ashamed of what has happened between us. I prefer going through all these hardships, only to have you in the end" He muttered, defeated, thinking she was retreating.

"Amrâlimê ..." she called him. "You know what that means?"

"No, although based on the spelling, I think it is a world in Khuzdul."

"You are right. And it means I don’t care for all the judging kings and ladies, if at the end of the day I get the chance to melt in your embrace and laugh at them."

" Khuzdul words have indeed a long and deep meaning , my lady..." he smiled, visibly relieved.

"Arrogant elf!" She admonished gently. "I have already warned you: irony is _my_ speech. Next time you'll be the one to behave like a lady and put on a dress ... "

"Your wish is my command. I’ll look rather fetching in a dress" He said, choking back a laugh.

The only response he received was a good splash from the stream where she was, that leading to a water battle that resulted _again_ in two soaked dignified warriors leaving a long trail of water in the corridors of Erebor that leaded to their chambers. The servants were already used to this particular incident, but the twins rolled their eyes when they appeared in the antechamber.

"And here I thought we were the only mischief-makers here, my dear brother. Shame to us if we are overcome by our own father ... "

"Shut up, scoundrels!" She silenced them. "And you better help me to pack, if you do not want me to tell your _ada_ exactly of what _kind_ of mischief you were capable yesterday ..."

"Is that a threat?" Elrohir absently replied.

"No, it is a promise" she said smiling, as if he had made a secret joke, and counted mentally backwards: ‘three, two, one, ...’

"Wait, wait, wait ... Does that mean you're coming with us? Oh, ada, ada, is that true? "The young elf jumped like a puppy."Brother, did you hear that? We are returning to Imladris, and the Huntress will come with us!!! "

"Yes, yes. Get a grip on yourself, 'Ro." His brother admonished. "That also means that we have lost some bets. If you'll excuse us, gentlefolk, we have some urgent business to attend to ... "

"Which, in the language of the twins," the Huntress told Elrond when his children were gone “ means that the entire mountain will be aware of all details of your private life, and you'll have to lend some golden coins to your own children."

For the second time in the same day, the elf lord pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered 'I do not know if this is a good idea ....'

"Do not talk nonsense, mellon nin. There is a warm bath waiting for you to join me in." The Huntress shouted from the bathroom. Well, maybe it would be worth the effort after all...


	40. The first step

Days later, a beautiful blue sky greeted the little expedition that came out of the gates of Erebor with their saddles full of gifts. However, none of them seemed to welcome the warm weather, and all the procession swung down the hill with unusually ashen faces and grim demeanor. The reason was mostly in the last day farewell party, dwarven style. Lots of food, even more to drink and too little sleep. The morning after their tiredness - and the mother of all hangovers for some of them - was added to the sadness of leaving good friends behind. The dwarf beer was legendary, of course, and stories about the celebration would warm the hearts of many in the Mountain during the long winter. Elladan and Elrohir would miss their dwarven counterpartss, having at last found their match in organizing pranks and impending disasters. Meanwhile, Glorfindel would miss the rough camaraderie with dwarven guards, and their good liquor. More so, the Huntress was going to miss the whole Company, but mostly the sweet and dear Bilbo, who had made such a long journey only to find his heart among the children of Durin. The farewell to her father had also been quite hard, because she really loved the stubborn dwarf, but she made him promise that at some point he would escape the iron grip of her mother and go to visit her in the valley. With a wink, the old warrior replied, "Of course, I do not need any excuse ..."  
  
In any case, as the hobbit used to said, the road went on and on, and once the alcohol in their system had dissipated, the whole party enjoyed the beautiful day, sunny but cold, and the wonderful views they had by the lake. In two days they reached the other side where they met the first trees of the Black Forest. Their ominous presence caused some of them to wish they had a closer contact with Gwaihir, the lord of the wind, to carry them on its wings across and spare them to enter. However, nothing could be done about it, and they took the main path through the forest.  
  
As they approached, the elves of the party realized that the woods hid eyes that did not lose sight of them. Their silvan relatives watched them silently from the higher branches, without approaching, but with their bows pointing towards them. When they saw them not retreating, and were sure they would take the path through the forest, one of them separated from the rest, and no one doubted the king would soon receive the news. Given this reaction, the Huntress decided she had been very right that morning, when she decided that if she was going to take the risk, it was not worth hiding. She was not the same woman who left the Forest in a hurry with a bunch of dwarves in tow, so she would dress accordingly. With the help of a small hobbit with an flawless sense of style, he had gathered a wardrobe fitted for a princess as a parting gift, so she chose a beautiful dark green velvet blouse, festooned with little gems in the deep neckline, and dark skintight leather pants, favoring her curves. All details were dwarven-style, but she wore it with the garb of a queen of old, a perfect counterpart to his elven lord. He was yet unusually grave when they approached the forest, conscious of all the issues they were likely to meet. Looking at his face, the Huntress promised herself to make him smile at least once that day, no matter what.  
  
Once they entered the forest, however, she could not remember many happy thoughts and a great heaviness came upon them, so even their mounts slowed up. The sun was hiding, and an almost unhealthy light surrounded them, a hazy mist escaping from the leaves. Some of them even had trouble breathing.  
  
"This forest is very sick, that is for sure. So don’t leave the road, no matter what. I’m not jesting. This darkness escapes all my healing powers, and by the Valar, I do not want anyone to risk off the path." Elrond ordered.  
  
Unusually, the twins agreed with his father and nodded, realizing the seriousness of the matter. The woman suspected that they had already met with some of the less pleasant creatures of the forest on the way to Erebor, and did not intend to repeat the experience. In any case, they began to hear the distant sound of hooves approaching, and they expected the patrol had been alerted by the guard who had seen them. They were met by a detachment of impassive guards, accompanied by an elf with elaborate clothing, which should be one of the ambassadors or the nobles of the king's court, no doubt.  
  
"Mae l'ovannen, hir Elrond! Le nathlam hi. My name is Galion, and I am His Highness personal assistant. I fear that we were not aware of your presence in advance" here the elf gave them a patronizing look, "so my king is at the palace supervising the arrangements to your reception. You and your household are warmly welcome to Mirkwood . "Once again, his gaze was charged with meaning as he eyed the Huntress.  
  
"If you will please follow me ..." Elrond placed beside him and rode in silence, guided by the servant, while the rest obediently followed him at a safe distance. The whispered comments began quickly:  
  
" _Nice_ guy, that Galleon ... or was it Galion?"  
  
"Serving His Grace-less has left him in a mood ... ·"  
  
"Or maybe his master mood has rubbed on him. Though it lacks the original eyebrow frowning."  
  
"Ah, but the look of disapproval is handled perfectly, of course."  
  
"Silence, gentlemen." The woman admonished them without much conviction. "Wait at least until your father can contribute to this _intellectual_ conversation."  
  
"Poor _Ada_ , there will be hell for him to pay. My dear, I hope you make sure to reward him conveniently for the effort… "

"Nonsense. Your father loves mediation, and could convince Thranduil that night is day if he intended to."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm afraid our favorite scarecrow does not want to talk about high politics, but of more _earthly_ matters, such as you. And ada is too protective for his own good, you should see him with Arwen ... "  
  
"Ai, mellon, in that case, I will not lose sight of either, unless we will be involved in the Fourth kinslaying of the Third Age." The Huntress, following her own advice, spurred his horse and placed herself at the head of the expedition, next to the healer, who directed her a gaze full of meaning, trying to convey everything he could not say out loud. Her hands sought to touch him, but she stayed still, grateful for the great gesture he was doing to stay by her side, no matter what awaited them ahead.


	41. At the palace

It didn't take long to get to the great palace in the heart of the forest, where a different guard awaited. He accompanied them to their rooms so they could rest and brush off the dust of the road. Soon they discovered that while Elrond's entire household would stay in the best guest rooms, the Huntress had been assigned a small room in the servants' wing. With a shrug, she didn't pay much importance to the situation, so she emptied her saddlebags on the bed and went to the public bathroom to wash herself.There, she met many grim looks accompanied by awful comments about her figure, her character, or worse, how she had managed to trick a high lord warming his bed. The latter made her turn around and answer, in perfect Sindarin:

"If I'm here only to warm his bed, I wonder why I'm not enjoying my position, surrounded by conforts, and not here, flanked by a bunch of nosy busybodies."

"That filth..."

"No wonder, with her sassy remarks..."

"She has a point there" said one of them, looking at her with pity.

Nor that she needed his pity, of course not. But at least it was better than the criticisms of the others. She steeled herself and went back to her room. She rummaged around her luggage to find something her dearest hobbit friend would deemed appropriate for the Elvenking’s Court. Surely, whatever he chose would be nice and proper; he had an exquisite sense of style. A brief note was joint to the dress: "Make me proud." The Slayer felt a pang of longing, thinking about all the friends she left behind, but she knew this particular friend was going to be very happy in the Mountain. He would probably become a formidable Consort, controlling his angry dwarf king and taking care that anyone felt comfortable in diplomatic missions. It was a role cut for him, as the dress she carried now seemed cut for her. Nothing as impressive as her famous red silk dress. She recalled she wore it the first time Elrond had kissed her on the battlements of Erebor, and had to suppress a shiver running down her body. However, the clothes she had now would fit perfectly for a courtly affair. It was a less ethereal weave, a more solid silk, but the dwarven tailor master had outdone himself with a filigree of silver threads, painting constellations on the dark grey background. She briefly considered if the grey was intended to match the pair of eyes that would surely following her every move.

So she headed to the owner of those particular eyes, deaf to the whispered words issued when someone crossed her path. Finally, she reached the living room that connected all the guest rooms. There were Elladan and Elrohir, reclining lazily on a couch and sipping a cool lemon water that some diligent servant had left carefully on the table. 'My same treatment' she dryly thought.

"You're… beautiful tonight, Faron.” They told her.

"You too, my handsome pair. You're going to draw attention among the sylvan elves. If you like redheads ..."

"Oh, shame on you! Such a lewdly remark to sensitive souls like us." Elrohir joked.

"Come on, 'Ro, she's right. As if you had not been throwing flirty glances at the guard with honey-colored hair and brown eyes"

"Hey, I was trying to be nice there..."

"Yes, yes, 'being nice'…"

'Thanks the Valar, which gave Elrond those two wonderful sons. Were it not for them, the nerves would be killing me. But they distract me, bless them. ' thought the Slayer.

At one point, the lord of Rivendell left his room, dressed in an elegant green silk robe, without too many embellishments, but that highlighted his figure and dark hair. She looked at him appreciatively, thinking of a compliment. On further reflection, she approached him and placed a brief butterfly kiss on his lips. Without another word, she offered him her arm.

"Would you grant me the pleasure to accompany you to the reception, hir vuin?"

However, from behind, the two brothers refused: "No way, Faron. You'll go in there on our arms."

"I mean, one arm each. That is, each one takes one of your arms ... "stammered Elrohir.

"Stop it, 'Ro, do not strain yourself, you fool. So, my sweet lady, would you allow us to escort you to the Elvenking’s halls?"

With a charming smile, the Huntress took each arm and laughing and joking, went to the throne room to face whatever awaited her. Everything was like the day that she stood in defense of Oakenshield, and her life changed forever. She was not the same untroubled woman who roamed freely around these halls. She had honoured a pledge and in exchange, she had found what she never dreamed of. Therefore, she lifted her head up high, proud, and walked with the delegation of Imladris into the centre of the room, surrounded by the Mirkwood realm courtiers. The room was crowded, as the day when the dwarves had arrived. Everyone wanted to see the Lord of the Last Homely House, his twin sons, the legendary Balrog killer who had returned from the halls of Mandos. Finally, but arousing no less curiosity, the person who they thought they knew so well, even some of them had hosted her at their home, but that had become an aberration-of dwarven blood, no less. Or rather, that despicable creature, of a lesser class than a servant, who had somehow managed to charm an elven lord. However, the wiser ones quickly spotted the way the sons of Elrond protected her with their body from uncomfortable staring, and said Elf Lord was unusually angry about the whispered comments on his regard.

Lying lazily in the antled throne, the king received the Noldor delegation dressed in his usual long robes and a silver autumn crown that he would soon have to change for a winter one. His façade was flawless, but inside anger and bitterness devoured him. He had made many bad decisions in his long life, but it seemed this particular one was returning painfully against him. Now he must reap the fruits of his misplaced pride. Everything would have been so different if only he had not tried to make the woman next to him feel ashamed of her origins. In fact, what appealed him to her was her cheerful and untamed fëa, that shone now more than ever in her eyes. However, he had let his prejudices against her race to overcome the feelings she aroused in his old heart, and he was utterly lost. In addition, every elf on her surroundings could see her now like the wonder she was to him. She glowed with elegant clothes and a perfect demeanour, and although she was surrounded by the wonders of his kingdom that she liked so much before, she only had eyes for the grim lord of Imladris. Thranduil did not understand their dalliance, he had always considered that Elrond was too workaholic for her to find him interesting. In addition, anyone was aware of his devotion to his unhappy wife, who had left for Valinor. That an elf like him had been so impressed by her, to the point of risking the gossip of all elvendom to bring her to Imladris, was not a meagre accomplishment. ‘Probably he is not a fool like myself’ the king sighed to himself.

"Mae l'ovannen! Welcome to the Mirkwood realm. I hope you had a pleasant journey here, my lords. I am honoured to receive such wise and high elves." here the twins seemed to detect an mocking tone in the king’s words. "I hope that the feast we have arranged to welcome you will be to your liking. Please, made yourselves at home."

"We are very privileged by your welcome, Your Majesty. We are happy to enjoy the legendary hospitality of the Forest. Our wish is to renew the bonds of friendship between your kingdom and Imladris." The elf healer said diplomatically.

'Friendship?' Thranduil thought. 'Sneaky half-elf, you bring _my_ treasure here, who you have stolen from _me_ , and you ask for friendship? The hell would froze... ' But externally, he nodded his head and majestically descended the grand staircase of his throne, to entwine his arm with Elrond’s and approach the tables set up for the party. He ignored completely the Huntress’ puzzled face, because she was placed at one corner of the head table, with the elf lord far on his right and his children sitting in succession, so the woman found herself again -and obviously in purpose- left out of everything. No one spoke to her, and the baleful glances in her direction spoke for themselves. She was boiling with anger, determined not to let anyone discourage her. So with a sudden movement, she took the vacant seat to the left of the Elvenking, greeting him with a little bow. Prince Legolas, who had temporary raised from that seat, understood perfectly her intent, and went to sit beside the sons of Elrond. From the other side, the gesture of Elrond had changed. Sparks of joy danced in his eyes, and he had to bite his cheek to stop laughing. Thranduil deserved it, for sure. She would return all his blows, one by one, the same she did when they sparred. He better got used to it. And speaking it, he envisaged very well a woman like her at his side. He could get used to it.


	42. Dinner with royalty

During dinner, the Elvenking gave away being a wine amateur himself, Dorwinion in particular. He spent most of the evening bringing a glass to his lips, seeming lost in thoughts. In fact, he was contemplating the Huntress, who was so close to him, but yet so out-of-his-way. Unable to resist the wave of jealousy that came over him at one point, he told his guest:

"The fact is that in recent times we have had some security breach in my palace, related to someone currently on your household..."

"Oh," she muttered as the elf hissed. "The dungeons. About time for that one.. "

"You said?"

"Nothing, I was pondering a fact. Pray forgive me and continue, Your Highness. "

"Technically, you're in the company of a fugitive in my kingdom and I could, in good faith, keep her here until she had fulfilled her punishment, in the same way she did when she was here last time."

"True. You are in your right to do so… But, my lord Thranduil, can I talk in complete honesty?" Elrond spoke

"Of course, please do."

"Touch but a hair on her head without her consent, and you will regret it. However, I will do nothing, mind you. The only thing I’ll do is to stand aside and see how she will break every bone in your body and destroy your entire realm with a smile in her face."

"You know what, my lord Elrond? I could take what you have just told me as an empty threat, but I know she is every bit capable of that and much more. And it’s the main cause I’m fighting you. She could bring her wrath upon me and I’ll still admire her for it."

"I know. The Valar above knows I understand you. And we better leave the subject, least she hear us and we’ll both regret this conversation. "

"You are right."

And with this strange talk, everything seemed to calm around the irascible monarch. He even deigned to cross some insubstantial words with the woman, noticing how her behavior had slightly changed. The bright soul that haunted his dreams remained, but her demeanor was more posed, more controlled, as if she was copycatting the lord of Imladris himself. So when he continued to talk to her, he needed all his brains, because her discourse was fast and deadly, disguising her criticism with elegance thanks to her quick wit. Oh, how wonderful it would have been to have her in kingdom, prior to his advice and his bed. But he could not dwell in the past, now she was the Half-Elven’s partner. It only seemed right that two such different characters have turn out to be so inexplicably complementary.

Meanwhile, the dinner was underway, and they soon rose to mix with the nobility of the realm and to the subsequent ball. So the tables were removed, the lamps were lit and all the elves, with the supernatural grace distinctive to their race began to move around the large Hall, interacting in small groups or dancing to the sound of silvan flutes and harps.

While distractedly listening to what some nobleman or other was telling the king watched as some of his guests attracted the attention of an unusual number of his youngster courtiers. Ah, the legendary charm of the lord of the House of the Golden Flower had not dimmed over the years, nor will that of the two sons of Elrond. Not surprisingly, her sister was the Evenstar of his people. They were not exactly her male version, but where Arwen was ethereal and unreachable, the eternal smiles and playfulness of the brothers made them much closer and desirable. Some of the healers surrounded Elrond, whose wisdom was legendary, interest in their studies in either remedy against disease. That left the Huntress among the disapproving gaze of his courtiers, who slipped on her like rain, while she was talking animatedly with her only friend, Prince Legolas, that seemed delighted in her company, and not bothered in any way by her current situation.

With a sudden flash of thinking, the king rose and approached them. He greeted her with a nod, and said to his son:

"Legolas, _ion nin_ , do you mind if I steal your lovely companion for a moment? Promise to It won’t be log, and I promise I’ll behave."

The aforementioned inquisitive eyes searched the woman, and when he got his permission from her, he retired briefly to get a drink

"Okay, my lady, I’ll be right back. If you'll excuse me ... "

When they were alone, the Huntress looked directly in his eyes and said:  
"Thranduil Oropherion, what an unexpected surprise. Congratulations for this great party, and my thanks for inviting me. What I can do for you?"

"I never thought you’ll address me in such a formal way, hiril Faron. But I guess I must have expected it, after all. I want you to know that I'm willing to redress some injustices that I have made to you, because I feel you don’t deserve it. Please follow me for a little talk.”

She was a little reluctant, expecting some foul move on Thranduil’s part, but she followed him anyhow. They went to a little alcove, secluded from the rest of the Hall by a wooden door, and guarded by an elf who opened it at the king’s request.

“Do not let anyone pass, young one” Thranduil said, and the guard only nodded in response.

When the door closed, the Elvenking was at a loss about what to say. He had only followed his instinct, who wanted to have her alone once more. For what, he didn’t know but he could not for the life of him let the occasion slip. She spared him the thought when she approached him and asked kindly:

“Let me rephrase again: What can I do for you, Thranduil?”

“I don’t know, Faron. Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe forgive me, and then stay?”

“You know I can’t stay. I gave my word to another.”

“He won’t love you, Faron. He only loved once, long ago, and she is waiting for him. He will hide you, you’ll be a dirty little secret in the Hidden Valley. You deserve so much more…”

“Pray tell me, what do I deserve? To stay here and become _your_ dirty little secret? Will you lock me in the dungeons again, and then come to me in disguise, like a thief in the night?”

“No! I will _never_ deny you, should you choose to stay. Even with your lineage, I won’t deny you, mark my words.” He slowly approached her, like a dangerous predator, and his voice dropped some octaves. ”Tell me, does he have the passion you need, does he awake those burning feelings in you?”

“Stop it, please” she pleaded, not wanting to get too close to him, least she will lose her self-control.

He cornered her on purpose, and stood with his hands on her shoulders, not letting her go. His face was very close to hers, and he sealed her mouth with a fiery kiss. She was not able to resist him, and she abandoned herself to his embrace, knowing perfectly well how wrong it was, but her treacherous body having thoughts of its own. She expected him to continue, but she was deeply surprised when he broke the connection and walked past her.

“Don’t tempt me, woman, because my restraint have some limits, after all. Please, stop this madness and stay with me. I can feel your desire, even if you deny it. You belong with me.”

“I can’t, Thranduil. I’m not lying.”

“So you’ll return to him? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I am deeply sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are wrong, but you’ll realize it before the end. So be it, for now. But I have one request of my own, before letting you go.”

“What is it?”

“Dance with me. In this field, as in others as well, I am a worthy opponent for the stiff lord of Imladris.”

“I don’t think it's a good idea, Thranduil."

"When was that a problem for you, Faron?"

Her eyes widened upon hearing the comment, and a deep laugh born from the depths of her chest merged in small waves, breaking the tension.

“You are right.” She answered. “Let’s go then, but I will only grant you one dance, because I fear to cause some incident, if you know what I mean”.

“Of course, my lady.” He smirked. “Please follow me.”

To seal the bond of friendship that had just been set precariously between them, they returned to the Great Hall, where several flutes were playing a happy tune, appropriate to the spirit that prevailed. The Elvenking took her by the waist, marveling at how her body adapted perfectly to his, and suited his pace, but he kept a respectful distance. She grabbed him by the shoulder, and Thranduil could see the long scar on her arm, an indelible memory of their last encounter in the battlefield. He ran his fingers over it and made her shiver. Then, he whispered on her ear 'I'm sorry', to which the Huntress replied: ‘Don’t be. Past is past.' Stunned, he continued the dance, leading her around the floor, letting himself to part from her. He loved her quirky sense of humor, and he would treasure forever each moment between them, but there were things he could not change. For now, they have stablished a precarious balance, he might take things as they came, which meant to enjoy the moment and the looks of disbelief he raised everywhere. Elladan winked when their eyes met, and Glorfindel raised his glass in his direction, surrounded as he was by ellyth. More surprisingly, Elrond smiled kindly at the situation, he seemed to understand the truce that they established, and he was pleased. The music played, and Thranduil truly was a great dancer, spinning her harmoniously, and even leaning her slightly on his arm, but he restrained himself and always kept his distance.

When the song ended, Thranduil bent over to greet her, and she, in an unexpected gesture of respect, placed her hand on her heart and bowed back, saying:

"Words cannot tell how I appreciate the dance and the gesture. Guren 'glassui. I really wish friendship would somehow blossom between us. "

"I hope so, Faron. I'll miss your sharp tongue and your witty remarks. Please consider that whenever you need me, you can come back to me. Write back when you arrive, let me hear your voice in my head. Because in the end, you are merciful and I am a bored old king.”

“I’ll do my best, Thranduil. Farewell.”

“Now, now, go and rescue your elven lord from the clutches of my medical staff."

With those last words, he let her in front of Elrond, who looked at her with sparkling eyes. A big smile broke on her face, and it seemed that the Throne Hall had lighted up suddenly, and all the courtiers’ gossip had disappeared, only the two of them remained.

"My lord," she greeted him, "I hope you are having a pleasant evening."

"Not as nice as yours, I see." The answer bothered her a little. "Surprising as it may be, it seems that the king and you have solved your disagreements."

"Indeed. Although it is not near as nice as the end of this evening will be for you, if you follow my meaning."

"How so? You are not even in the same wing of the palace... "

"I think my new friendship with the lord of this realm allows me some freedom. Like to choose what chambers should be 'appropriate to my status and quality'. Which means I intend to sleep on your room, come what may. "

"Oh? Is that so? Maybe then I’ll decide to throw diplomacy to the wind and retire to my room because I find myself _suddenly_ very tired. "

"Hir Elrond, leave the sarcasm to those who can handle it. Stand up for a little longer, and I shall make it up later ... "

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who asked the Huntress to stay with Thranduil, I'm afraid the arc I planned doesn't allow it. Anyway, I gave them a chance to, ahem, talk. And another chance to meet again. Please tell me what you think...


	43. Short goodbyes

And with this new understanding, the Imladris delegation spent several days under the watchful eye of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood. Some of the more daring ones were delighted with the unusual customs and open behavior of Elrond’s household, but there were few that cursed foreigners under their breaths, and thought that the king had been extremely kind to his hosts. Some blond Noldo with a special fondness for redheads was benefitting _a lot_ from the wood elves’ curiosity. It seemed he had reached Valinor again, judging by the smiles that appeared on his face each morning. Meanwhile, Elladan and Elrohir seemed to have a legion of ellith-and some ellon- following them, although in their case it was not clear whether they had given in to their advances or not. In short, the stay in the Forest was not as uncomfortable and as unpleasant as they were all expecting.

The Elvenking watched from afar how the woman he desired was drawn to another, more compassionate and sensible than him, and that made him think than should his bearing had been less bitter and snapping, he would no doubt had succeeded in retaining her. He still remembered fondly their kiss, and sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be the last one. Stranger things had happened, and the Half-Elven was extremely boring. But he made a note to himself to try and change his behavior towards his loved ones, currently his son, and try to stay closer to him, should he need his advice or his sympathy.

All things come to an end, and when they left, Thranduil himself and his son took leave of them on the edge of the forest. With a last hug, Legolas said goodbye to his spirited friend, and fervently wished to see her again. Meanwhile, Elrond extended an invitation to him to visit them in Imladris when he wished, to strengthen ties between both kingdoms. Finally, Thranduil promised to write regularly, commenting on the progress of the darkness in the woods and the orcs, so they thanked him profusely. The Huntress took this opportunity to jest:

"Maybe I’ll write you some lines too, in order to annoy Your Highness just a little. The forest would seem dull without me around to make some trouble…”

"Of course, my lady. Life would be too boring without your wits" With a gesture of greeting he established:

"Savo 'lass a lalaith, Faron. One last piece of advice: the worst of your journey is indeed to come. Beware the Golden Wood."

"I'll be careful, mellon nin. Na lû e-govaned vîn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Savo 'lass a lalaith: Have joy and laugther  
> Na lû e-govaned vîn: Until we meet again.  
> (source: http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/phrases.html)


	44. Heading to Lorien

 

The shortest route to Imladris wasn’t their current one, the Huntress muttered. They would had crossed the heights of the Misty Mountains, and they would have arrived. However, Elrond was concerned about the darkness spreading in Dol Guldur, that bordered with both Thranduil and Lorién domains, and he wanted to inspect this fact for himself. Some said that a dark magician, a Necromancer, inhabited the fortress and evil filled the surrounding lands. Therefore, the most convenient, as he had said, was to seek the advice of the Lady, despite how complicated the situation was going to be. Most likely she already know about his current liaison, because she knew many things that had been and were to come. So the woman, who was reckless in any other situation, was certainly reluctant to cross the borders of Lorien, even if Thranduil didn’t put her on guard against it.

There were still many days to arrive, in any case, and they first would inspect the abandoned fortress that bothered the Elf lord so much, formerly called Amon Lanc. They traveled along the Anduin river, bordering the Elvenking realm, and the truth was that the closer they got, the more she was sure that something was wrong in the landscape. The vegetation became more twisted and strange things looked at them from the depths of the forest. Even the river seemed to weaken, as if his strength was exhausted. A supernatural fog covered all the scenery, and a hill far away stood out as an ominous finger pointing to heaven. A sudden shiver ran through her, and she remembered suddenly other times and other battles that were not hers. One detail that she had 'forgotten' to tell her lover. She was having strange dreams in which she was not herself, and she recalled vividly some details that brought her to think perhaps it wasn’t only dreams, but some records from other times. Coincidentally, she was sharing a bed with one who had the gift of foresight, or so they told, so she thought it was just an after-effect. However, from deep inside she had the feeling that it was not a good idea to approach that place, but she understood the reasons for the half-Elven to do so. If anything went wrong, the only comfort was that they were near Lothlorien if shelter was needed. Not a very reassuring thought, mind you.

Apparently some others were feeling the same frustration as her. Specifically, Glorfindel’s horse, Asfaloth, was nervously pawing the ground and tried to get out by all means, following a tributary to the Anduin leading to the Mountains. ‘It's the first time I agree with a horse ', she mused desperately.

"Glorfindel, mellon nin, Asfaloth seem to enjoy the landscape as little as I do. Would not it be wiser to head directly to Lorien and not to inspect the hill on our own? "

"There is nothing to fear," said Elrond dispassionately. "We won’t go into the fortress. We will approach so I can feel with certainty whatever lurks inside."

"That's precisely what worries me, amrâlimê, if you can sense it, it can also spot you."

Obsessed with the idea, she spent most of the day crestfallen and lost in thought. Many things had to be said before they came to Lorien, and now she doubted she would have the time to do it. They camped early, because they wanted to get to Amon Lanc at dawn, when the sun rose and darkness was defeated. While they arranged the tents, Elrond circled her waist with his arm, feeling her dismay, and whispered in her ear: "Nothing will happen, I promise you."

"I would like to believe you, Elrond, I really would. But something in my heart tells me different. I have a feeling that something awful awaits me, not you, or those in your household, but me. It’s something old who knows me, and I do not understand how or why. I fear that, after what we've been through, I cannot get to tell you ... "

"Shhhhh, melleth nîn, you can tell me that when we arrive to the Valley, which I hope you can consider your home someday."  
"Oh, Elrond ...." She sighed and turned to kiss him passionately. He felt the salty taste of her tears on his lips, and realized what she was trying to say, and he took her arm affectionately:

"Don’t tempt me, Faron, you are especially beautiful in the last lights of the day. We must rest, and tomorrow our concerns will fade away. "

So they went to bed, and rose at first light, ready to inspect the hill. The noise of a galloping horse startled them, and they readied themselves for an attack. All were dressed in armor, but each one of the expedition favored a different weapon. Most of the servants were wielding longbows, not as large as the Galadhrim’s, but they could pierce a metal plate at a safe distance. Elladan had a long elven sword, the same as his father, while Elrohir had a knife and a short arc. Glorfindel wielded Thorondun from Asfaloth`s high cross in a fierce display and the Huntress had drawn her double swords from its sheath and leaned forward, trying to see the source of the hooves that could be heard louder and louder. However, suddenly all lowered their weapons, and Elrond shouted:

"Mithrandir! I’m delighted to see you, old friend! To what do we owe this happy encounter? "

"The Lady called me," replied Gandalf the Grey. "I had to wait here at dawn, so here I am. Apparently, she has also called you, I guess we would finally figure out what goes on in Dol Guldur. "  
"No, Mithrandir." The healer answered. "I have not been summoned by Galadriel, though I suppose she known we were coming, so she brought you here. We must wait for her."

"How nice ..." the Huntress muttered softly.

"So, Faron, are looking forward to meeting our grandmother?" Elrohir whispered with a grin.

"I’m overjoyed."

'I do not doubt it' a voice echoed in her mind. 'Aur vaer, Durin’s folk, and perhaps I should also add mine’s blood too ... Those are dark days, and will not say I am glad to see you.

"She is here," she warned aloud, but to herself, she said: 'Alatúlië, my lady. I know you, Artanis. Many ages have passed since we met for the first time, and there is no love between your blood and mine. There's something inside of me urging me to tell you about the light in your hair, and the destruction that it brought.'

'Nay! I knew I could not be wrong. You are indeed Elrond’s folly. Trouble follows you, Feänor.'

'You are wrong, White Lady. I am not an elf, but a Huntress, and half-dwarf. My father is Dain of the Iron Hills.'

'Are you sure? I can feel the call of your elven blood. It is so strong ...'

And with these words, the Lorien guards came to view, with the Lady at his head. She greeted Galdalf with a nod, and hugged her grandchildren. Then she retired with Elrond, and both keep an angry exchange in which surely they would be discussing the _small_ matter of her presence. For the umpteenth time since they met, the Huntress felt miserable and insignificant, and besides she was very surprised by Galadriel’s words. She suspected it was only a ruse to turn Elrond against her, because it was known that he had been hostage of two of the sons of Fëanor. He must not hold any affection for his descendants, whoever they were.

In any case, she began to understand how she knew the real name of Lady Galadriel, or why she spent several days dreaming of battles that were not hers, and large flames that rose into the sky. Damn it. The worst was that whatever was inside her knew exactly what they would find in Amon Lanc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alatúlië: Welcome (quenya)  
> Artanis: Galadriel ancient name in Quenya.


	45. The hunted hill

Once the two High Elves had finished arguing, they headed toward the hillside, to inspect why the apparently deserted fortress was attracting so many dark creatures. As they walked, the wizard approached the Huntress, and watching her intently, he said:

"I think we have been not properly introduced, my lady. My name is Gandalf, the elves call me Mithrandir, for the dwarves I am Thârkun. I have heard that you, ummm, you are headed to the Last Homely House as a distinguished host."

"More or less. _Guest_ would be the right word. My name is Selene, though everyone here calls me huntress or Faron. I almost prefer that nickname, really. At your service, Thârkun. Forgive me if I am a little forward, but are you really a wizard?”

"I guess I'm no more wizard as you are a guest. We're both too smart to beat around the bush. And I suppose you'll want to know what Galadriel has seen in you”

"I already know I am weird, but I wonder she had told me something so strange about my lineage."

“Because it's the truth. Anyone with the gift of sight can detect your aura, my dear. A particularly attractive trait, not doubt, because you host the last remnant of an old fëa that was believed dead long ago. All those ages, everyone thought his lineage extinct, but they forgot it can be inherited by a _female_ branch. A proud one, I must say. One of your predecessors decided to venture where no one had managed before, it seems, to bed the most glorious and devastating elf who never stepped on Middle-Earth. And you share a little of his blood. Why do you think that after eons of loneliness, not one but two of the oldest and most powerful lords of the Elvenkind turned their eyes on you, of all women?"

"Oh, a wonderful thought, indeed. So you implied I share the blood of the cursed, the feanorians, and that is the only reason my beloved approached me in the first way. Wonderful, and I thought my day could not get any worse after being insulted by the my lover’s mother-in-law..." she replied, her voice full of venom, "Ah, but wait, it can still get better because we are heading to a fortress which apparently hosts an ancient evil, against which've been trying to prevent anyone in this expedition _for days_?"

"Bitterness doesn’t suit you, my lady. I didn’t say you are cursed. I think it's rather the opposite. The Valar have guided your steps so that you can be here and now. On your way, darkness has no power over you, but you are neither a creature of light. That's very unusual. "

"Thank you for your kind words, Thârkun, but I cannot shake the feeling that we are facing our doom here."

"Or theirs, it depends on the perspective ..." said the enigmatic wizard.

When they reached the twisted iron gates of the castle, nothing seemed to move around. Even the wind had stopped blowing, which prevented everyone to be on guard. Something was hiding there, and it wanted them out. Raising his staff, Galdalf commanded:

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

A blue glow toured the old walls, illuminating its corners, but without showing any living being, even the smallest mouse. It was unnatural, and everyone knew it. They were in a state of awe, until they began to hear a whisper brought by the same wind, with a poisonous tint:  


"Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky.

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in halls of stone.

Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die ... "

With those verses, several ghosts appeared to their view, tall and terrible, armed with old swords, and with an empty space where his face should be. Their voices were just a hiss, and they waited for something to strike. A taller shadow separated from the others, cladded in a black armor that seemed to absorb the light around it, even the morning sun didn’t dare to reflect on it. He raised his hands, and the flames surrounded him. From the depths of his helmet came a supernatural voice, which said:

"Foolish creatures ... Why have you come? You are alone. You are face to face to your destruction and you don’t even know it. The grey wizard, those pathetic elves, and even a mortal woman. Tell me it is not another weak descendant of Isildur you have here?”

"Ah, at last you are revealed, Necromancer." Gandalf commented. "This is not your place. Surrender, or you will be defeated as your Lord was before you."

"Are you sure of that? My servants will crush you one by one like cockroaches, starting with that filthy half-elf who has spent so many centuries facing me ... "and he lifted a finger towards Elrond. Dread filled all their hearts, and they knew he was doomed, as no one could face the wrath of Sauron and stay alive. However, an unexpected voice echoed on the walls of stone, leading the creatures to a temporary halt.

"I'm _so_ tired of being called Mortal like it was an insult or a curse. All men must die, that’s for sure, but anyone, man, elf or dwarf, can be killed. Even you, Annatar. Anyway, you might want to reelaborate which one among us is your highest threat.”

 "How dare you address me, your wretched woman?"

"Pray tell me, forger of lies, who do you think those rings will obey, you or the blood of their original planners? Mind you, you were but a thief of my son’s ideas…” She commented, unsure about what she was telling.

The black helmet spun so fast in her direction that everyone heard the ominous creaking of the metal joints, but she went on:  
"Ah, you are starting to understand. Such stupidity suits you, servant of Melkor. Those flames, indeed, not. In fact, I’m sure they’ll fit _me_ better."

The Huntress was moving, but she was not completely herself. Even her voice had changed. She snapped her fingers and placed her palms up, so the flames that surrounded the dark armor moved to her hand and began to glow like a torch, without burning her. Finally, the Necromancer understood.

"How becoming, even she has the hair of fire. Pray tell me, Fëanor, do you think that your rash mortal will fight me this time? See what happened to Isildur. You're long dead, she is hosting a vague reflection of your cowardly soul, hidden in a corner, waiting for your chance.

I have an offer for you and your host, because I am patient and a genius, I can understand. Join me, Noldo, and I will provide you what you crave the most. Power and knowledge. You'll lead my army, and I will teach you the secrets of the forge, so you can craft wonders the world have not seen. I will offer you revenge against all those who belittled you for so long. And for your mortal host, she is beautiful and untamed, albeit no one values her for it. If she stays with that elven filth, her spirit will fade. She’ll be my red queen and she will rise proud among the blood of my enemies, and no one will never attempt to tame her."

"No one makes decisions for me, Necromancer." The woman answered, incidentally sensing a great source of power accumulating beside her. "I have no interest in being your queen, and it’s me who is in control here, mind you. As for the rest, you picked the wrong color for me. Orc blood is black, as yours. And _I will_ bath in the blood of my enemies..." she raised her swords. "And you’ll lost, damn you."

At that precise moment, she stepped aside to reveal Galadriel in all her glory, who addressed the lieutenant of Melkor with words of power, ordering him to leave. The Huntress had distracted him for the right amount of time, and the Lady prevailed. However, the fight weakened her, and she nearly fell, if it were not for the arm of the Huntress holding her.

'Do not think for a moment that this settles your debts. You still are Elrond’s folly, and he will eventually realize it’ the same voice echoed in her head.

'I was aware from the beginning, my lady. And ‘·Elrond’s folly’ would be a fitting name for a boat, do not you think? You have won. As the monster out there rightly pointed, I am but a mortal. My life is nothing but a speck of dust on your shoes, and then you’ll all sail to Valinor, and forget me. So please forgive me for saying that, but I gave no offense, so I’ll endure no more threats.’

'Your pride will be your downfall.'

'Maybe. But I am afraid that will be the effects of the _same_ blood we share, my lady.'

The Galadhrim rushed to help her liege, and they all headed to the elven settlement on the trees, Lothlorien. Its beauty was ravishing, and although all the Rivendell retinue had been there before, they could not help but marvel again of the living art all over the place, the branches that made the ornate dome that protected them and the graceful beauty of the Talan, the houses hanging from the trees. The Huntress felt the magic of the Lady in each place, and she knew she was not welcome. There was a pattern in every elven realm she passed, and she wondered if the same thing would happen in the Halls of Fire. But to flee was not in her plans, because her heart was still in the hands of one Elven Lord, and until he decided he wanted her no more, her place was at his side, no matter what.

As far as she knew, now that the last secret about her had been revealed, she might have lost him already. Apparently, she was hosting a part of the fëa of Fëanor, who had woken up in front of his ancient enemy. And if the wizard was right, it was the only reason Elrond found her attractive. Unfortunately, she knew she must told him as soon as possible, and face the consequences. So when the servants had retired and they were left alone in a spacious _talan_ to rest, she approached the healer and said:

"I'm terribly sorry, Elrond. I did not know. Your mother-in-law noticed and explained to me with harsh and hurtful words. I understand you’ll never want to see me again."

"No, you had no clue of what happened. The problem is why I haven’t foreseen it. Perhaps my relationship with you is clouding my judgment."

"It appears so. Thârkun told me Fëanor’s fëa is the only reason you are attracted to me, so I will left you alone, if it is your wish”

“What are you talking about? It makes no sense. Mithrandir is wrong, following his trail of thinking we should all fall in love with Galadriel, because her Fëanorian blood is stronger than yours, and she is indeed powerful."

“Do you think his fëa” he followed, “has bring us together? No way. It was your strength and your merry, your sweetness and your fire what appealed to me. And it was only you who finally refused Sauron’s offer. Probably Fëanor would have accepted the power offered, or he would have stood, no one will never know. But you refused, and that's what matters."

"And finally, and I hate myself to bring that to the front, you honestly think the Elvenking was attracted to you because of some Noldo’s fëa? He _hate_ them, especially Fëanorians. You might want to ask him to write down his reasons, but I’m guessing they are more of a… let’s name it _lusty_ type.”

“Oh, Elrond, amrâlimê. I love you." The statement came in a natural way for the Huntress.

"I love you too, Faron. And I already told you your ancestors, whoever they might be, won’t change that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter, and then a little epilogue. I'm planning to write them down today, because holidays are approaching, yay!!  
> Anyway, thanks a lot for reading!


	46. Going home

After a few uncomfortable days in the Lorien forest, they traversed Ost-in-Edhil to follow the Glanduin riverside. The lands of Eregion looked vast and desolate without the elves that inhabited them ages ago, and that certainly seemed to weigh on the heart of the whole expedition. They were singing sad songs about older and happier times, and they reminisced their ancestors, as Celebrimbor, the real crafter of the rings. After learning that shared a part of Noldor blood –nor that it was so rare, considering the miscellaneous origin of her race- she felt more inclined to understand the stories of this people. Her lover was technically also from this same origin, and as they explained her, he would had even claim the title of High King of the Noldo, although he had never wanted it. The irony of the title had not gone unnoticed for her, and she was still laughing to herself –she was, indeed, the black queen, because she had the heart of a king.

In any case, the road was much more pleasant than in the past, the glittering waters of the Bruinen murmuring as if they were welcoming them. And so the days passed, until one afternoon they spotted the place where the river divided in two branches, which meant that in less than one day they would reach the ford, and thus the end of their journey.

Messengers were sent to warn the household and prepare the chambers, and a shiver of anticipation travelled in her. Would she be ill received, the same in the Valley than in other realms? Should she endure again the judgement, the whispers and the gazes? Eager to know the answer, she could not sleep at night. She got up and walked around the camp, considering many things to herself.

She had walked a long way to arrive there, but she didn’t know if she could adjust to this type of quiet life. For once, she wanted to believe that this time would be different, that she would not have to hide, as Elrond had said. But things were never that simple. Those Halls were haunted by the echo of other women's footsteps, who would always be his lady wife and had the main place in his heart. She was only a substitute, a bandage to heal a wound that would fade the day the elf would reach the shores of Aman. She had known this from the beginning, but being so close to Imladris made her fears stronger, and they threatened to drown her. At one point she even thought of the possibility of returning. Her mother would be delighted to see her again in the Iron Hills, and she might talk to her about the strange connection with elves. A rich voice interrupted her train of thought:

"Nervous, my lady?"

"Terrified, mellon. Here we are, what if this is not my place?, what if your people do not accept me? "

"We have accepted you long before that poor Elrond had found the courage to approach you, Faron. Why should they be any different?" Glorfindel's eyes examined her gravely.

"You are not having second thoughts, are you?"

"I do not know. My life is very complicated, and I fear my distress and insecurities would spoil my relationship with your lord."

"I don’t think so. If there is anyone on Middle-earth that can understand emotions and feelings, that's Elrond of Rivendell. You have a great taste in elves…" he winked.

"Well, not in _every_ case, I’m afraid" She replied, trying to make a joke but deeply grateful to the blond elf for reassuring her. If a hero of the old age accepted their relationship, either would the other inhabitants of the Valley.

So the next day they all got up at dawn, eager to get home, to greet their friends and rest after the long journey. The Huntress, in particular, could not wait to take a long bath to take away the dust and fatigue of the road. The twins chattered incessantly about all the places they wanted her to visit, but Elrond was unusually silent, looking to the sky. When they reached the ford, a delegation of elves were impatiently waiting for them.

A very pale elf with a dark tunic and inky black hair leaded them, and greeted his lord with deference, but that morphed immediately to a look of disapproval when he saw Glorfindel, grinning beneath his wavy blond mane.

"Le suilon, hir vuin! At last you have come back! I hope your journey was happy, and that all issues are solved in Erebor. The Last House needs your guidance, and letters are piling in my office, waiting for your reply. "

"I'm glad to see you, Erestor, my friend. Let me introduce you to the lady Selene, from the Iron Hills, which will stay with us for as long as she pleases."

"My lady, Erestor of Imladris at your service."

"A pleasure, Master Erestor, but I prefer you to address me in a friendly way, I’m no lady, only Faron.”

"I will," said the elf, bowing his head. "Please follow me, your rooms are waiting for you."

Subsequently, Elladan took care to present her to the other elven guards who seemed to have some familiarity with the twins. As they told her, they used to go hunting together.

"And what game do you hunt, mellyn nin?"

"Irch." Answered one of the guards.

"Ah, in that case, I hope the next time you’ll allow me to join you. They gave me a new nickname I must live for, which involves the death of many of those bastards."

The two brothers, who knew what she meant, threw their head back and laughed heartily. The guards also had to find this amusing, since they immediately struck her up in the conversation about the best ambushes or the most appropriate weapons. Without realizing it, they arrived at the gates of Imladris, and what she saw there stole her breath away.

It was not as majestic as the stone palace of Thranduil, or as intricate as the Golden Forest but the whole place oozed elegance and tranquility. Water –Valar blessed the waterfalls- from the Bruinen flowed everywhere in cascades, streams and springs, covering all over the place with a strange soothing melody. The stone houses were white, and graceful, and merged with the landscape in a masterful way that only the elves architects were able to get. 'Never again will I feel like a flower that was not watered' she thought, suddenly relieved.

Turning her gaze, she met those gray eyes she loved and felt a familiar warmth pooling in her chest. There was so much in those eyes: joy to return home, concern about her own, and even some love for her, and she realized that there was no place she would rather be. The elf lord also seemed to read something in her face, because he took her in her arms for his entire entourage to see and whispered in her ear:

"We are home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last chapter. It will be followed by a sweet epilogue. I hope you people have enjoyed it so far, and please tell me what do you think of the whole story. Thanks a lot for reading!


	47. Epilogue: 77 years later

Aragorn rides swift, very concerned about Frodo Baggins. The small hobbit has been injured in Amon Sûl, and seems to be losing energy rapidly. Those who chase are also stealing his will to live, and he is increasingly pale. He can’t let them reach the little creature.

The his father's lands are not very far. The Lord of Imladris has the gift of foresight, and he’ll know he is coming, as will also be informed about the wraths that followed them from the West Road. He’ll send his best warriors to hold them, and he expected them to arrive soon, or the Halfling will be lost. With that thought in mind, he urged his mount, forcing it to go faster. Looking back, he ensures that the other hobbits followed him. He must reach the ford, and perhaps the’ll have a chance.

Alerted by his horse prancing down the field, he realizes that there is someone nearby. Silver bells announce the sound of someone approaching, but it cannot be an enemy. At the next turnout awaits an elf with gold hair with several guards. Glorfindel. Isildur's heir rejoice, because there is no more powerful elf in Imladris, except perhaps his father or ... where will she be? Would she stay in the valley even now?. In any case, time is short, and Glorfindel follow him from a distance, and that seems to keep the wraiths at bay. Frodo was put in Asfaloth’s cross, and the horse seem to care he does not fall off.

The ford can be seen already, and Aragorn is happy to get home. They can pass the river easily, it is low enough for the season, but he can’t think about nothing more, because suddenly there are black horses out of the shadows giving him chase. Frodo becomes extremely pale, and take the reins of his horse, as if to slow it. However, Glorfindel shouts an order and he urges the horse to run and pass through the waters, while the others turn to face the terrors that await them. A tremendous noise, like a hurricane, greets their arrival, but it doesn’t seem an ominous sound that these creatures have summoned. In fact, it is as if a storm could scream. O sing, to that effect.

The High Elf seems to know the sound, and beckons them to cross as soon as possible, and when the last leg of their horses touch the shore, Aragorn sees it. The river water is coming in waves, like a great horse stampede, at the head of which there is a single horse, swift as the wind, guided by someone surrounded by a mane of red hair. The rider raises her hand and makes a little movement as to stop. She places in front of the Wraiths, and tells them:

"We meet again, filth. You know that you have no power here. Go back to your master, least you will be defeated."

From the depths of the black holes that are their faces, the spectres hiss in black tongue. Aragorn does not understand what they say, but it seems the strange figure does, and suddenly her voice tone changes, and becomes lower and deeper, more threatening and old:

"Don’t you dare call me a coward, or your master Annatar will have to collect your bits all around Arda. There is no red queen here. Only Urul, the flame that rises to your ruin. "

The monstrous horses are getting closer, ignoring the woman’s warnings, because she is undoubtedly a woman. A tall one with double swords, which he knows well because he had seen her throughout his childhood. She has a long life for a daughter of Men, and rumor says it’s because her mixed blood. She is well known to be deadly and dangerous, but she can also heal, and it is open knowledge to all in the Hidden Valley that she is Elrond’s most valued jewel.

With a wry smile, the woman lowers her hand and water floods on the wraiths, wiping the surface and washing them away, while she hums a song on the shore. When it's over, she approaches the surprised hobbits and greets Aragorn.

"Mellon nîn, it’s been a long time. Elrond missed you terribly. Are you going to introduce me to your friends? "

"Of course, Faron. It’s good to see you again. Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, this is Selene, the Huntress, a lady from Imladris. But probably if you give her that treatment she will drown you in the first mud puddle she’ll find, as she used to do with me when I was a child."

"Gentlehobbit, at your service. And call me Faron, if you do not mind. This _lady_ will make you pay, Strider."

"I'm sure of it. Maybe you want to give me a chance to spar with you. I learned some new tricks. "

"The twins will be happy to hear it. I cannot train now, Elrond summoned a Council, and it is not wise for me to appear outdoors "  
"What? Are you still hiding when the great lords walk by? That's not like you. "

"I do not hide, now I’m trying to behave like a lady, at least while they are here. Which means, among other things, that no swords for me or mud for hobbits. You are safe, my friends. "

The two young hobbits enjoy this new friend very much, and upon arrival, they realize that everyone greets her with respect. However, there is something wild and untamed in her stance and his behavior, so unlike the other inhabitants of Imladris. She leads them to the healing room, where the lord is taking care of an unconscious Frodo. Meanwhile, they hear her calling aloud in the adjoint Hall:

"Gimli son of Glóin, bring here your lazy dwarven ass! I just deal with the Wraiths, by Mahal, and my lord is busy. I need some beers! "

Days pass by, and there is a great gathering for the Council. Elrond have called representatives of dwarves, elves and men together for one last battle. She is also there, watching everything from a corner, but saying nothing. She knows that the hobbits are hiding behind a pillar, also listening to the wonders they tell, with wide eyes and pale knuckles holding onto the stone. However, the news don’t surprise her. She has ridden the length and breadth of Middle-earth over the years, often hunting with the twins, instilling fear in the hearts of orcs. Sometimes simply because her heart asked her to, because she could not stand the quietness of the Valley. But she always returned after a few months, to Elrond’s warm embrace, and it was all laughter and music for a time, because she lifted the heaviness on the Elvenlord heart.

However, she don’t like entertaining guests, mostly because their questions are deeply uncomfortable, if not inappropriate. But she has also learned to adapt herself, and now dressed as an elven maiden, she attends the table without saying anything, even as her fingers tingle with the need to unsheathe her sword and beat some sanity into their thick skulls. No one seems to notice her, at least until the young hobbit, Frodo, brings forward the One Ring on the table. A sudden gust of wind seems to steal her breath, and she rises quickly. 'I am ill’, she tells, and she quickly removed herself from the vicinity of temptation.

"The Ring. The One. Isildur’s bane. If you think for a moment, Fëanor, I'll let you get close to that _thing_ , you are sorely mistaken. I’ll drown myself in the Sea before that."

She headed for a remote balcony deep in thoughts. If Elrond decides to give shelter to the ring bearer in Imladris, she will have to leave for good, with a great pain in her heart. She can’t let herself approach the cursed object, or many calamities will fall on Middle-Earth. She also knows that the enemy is waiting to besiege the Hidden Valley and she will have to fight it. Again.

Either way, her years of peace have passed. Right now, when she got those news. The first one to notice –and the only one so far- had been Glorfindel. Still, she did not want anyone else to know, so she continues with her normal duties, and even leads the attack on the wraiths, because she feels more powerful than ever. Hours pass, and she gets increasingly sad to leave the life she knows and has grown to love.

Soft footsteps wake her from her reverie, and there are arms around her, as they stand in silence watching the sunset. When the sun has set on the horizon, and all is quiet, he whispers

"The hobbits are leaving with the man of Gondor, the son of Thranduil and Mithrandir. They will take the One Ring to Mount Doom."

"Oh, it's a dangerous quest, amrâlimê. Have you thought about who will you choose from your household to lead them? Glorfindel, perhaps?"

"No, Aragorn will be. It is time for Isildur’s heir to claim what is his by right and birth."

"So what troubles you, my love? You are restless. Did you have a vision? "

"No, my foresight is blurred now, blinded by the proximity of Sauron. I’m just afraid, Aragorn is like a son to me, and I fear to lose him."

She turns and kisses him sweetly, trying to erase his doubts. Then she thinks better, and put the hand of the mighty elf on her stomach:

"You will not lose anyone, Elrond Eärendilion. Your child flies away, it’s in his nature, fatherhood has also some bitter moments. But maybe you’ll have a chance to experience it all again ... "

THE END. MISCHIEF MANAGED.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I've spent so many hours with this little piece, I'll miss it. Hope you have enjoyed my character and the story. Please feel free to comment.


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